WEE           1 
MACGREEGORj 

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J'J'BELL          ! 

UCSB  LIBRARY 
t  -  5  331R 


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WEE 

MACGREEGOR 

A  Scottish 

Sto 

ry 

b  y    J- 

J.      B 

E      L 

L 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP,    Publishers 
ii    East   Sixteenth   Street,  New  York 


GLOSSARY 


Abin, above 
Ablow,  bolow 
Auld,  old 
Ay  a',  at  all 

Ba\  ball 

Bass,  a  door-mat 

Baun',  band 

Bawb,  a  joke,  a  "lark" 

Begood,  began 

Bew,  blue 

Blate,  backward,  ashamed 

Blethbe.  a  talker  (of  nonsense) 

Breith,  breath 

Buits,  boots 

Ca'  (to),  to  call 

Ca'  (to),  to  drive,  to  force 

Caih,  comb 

Cairbit,  carried 

Canny,  careful 

Carvies,  sugared  caraway-seeds 

Chedch  jean,  a  toffy  sweet 

Chiey,  friendly,  "chummy" 

Class,  clothes 

Code-ilb,  cod-liver  oil 

Coup  (to),  to  upset 

Crack,  conversation 

Daud,  lump  (also  blow) 
Daunki,  stroll 
Dicht  (to),  to  wipe 
Doo,  dove,  pigeon 
Dook  (to),  to  bathe 
Dour,  stubborn 
Drookit,  soaked,  drenched 
Dunt%  knock 

Eenin',  ironing 

Fabh  (to),  to  trouble,  to  worry 
File  (to),  to  soil 


Fin  (to), 'to  feel 
Fit,  foot 
Flannen,  flannel 
Fou,  full 
Frae,  from 
Fricht,  fright 
Furbte,  also 
Furbit,  forward 

Gab,  mouth 

Gab  (to),  to  induce,  to  compel 

Gartnavbl,  a  local  asylum 

Gemm,  game 

Girny,  fractious,  complaining^ 

Glaur,  mud 

Goonie,  a  little  gown 

Greet  (to),  to  weep 

Grum phy,  a  pig 

Guid-sister,  sister-in-law 

Gundy,  candy 

Hap  (to)  to  cover  cosily 
Haud  (to),  to  hold 
Havers  !    Nonsense  1 
Hoast,  cough 
Hubl,  ride  (in  a  vehicle) 

Intil,  into 

Jawbox,  sink 
Joog,  jug,  mug 

Keek  (to),  to  peep 
Kibt,  chest 
Kitly,  tickly 

Leevin',  living 

Let  bug  (to),  to  show,  to  in- 
form 
Louse  (to),  to  loosen,  to  unlace 
Lum,  chimney 


7 


8 


Glossary 


Maun,  must 

Muckle,  much,  great,  big 

Neb,  nose,  point 

Ne  eeday.  New  Year's  Day 

Nick  (to  get  the),  to  be  "run 

in" 
Nock,  clock 

Oaein',  rowing 
Oose,  Oosib,  wool,  woolly 
Ootbye,  out-of-doors 
Owes,  over,  excessively 

Paetins,  crabs 
Pechin',  panting 
Pickle  (a),  a  few 
Pooshun,  poison 
Potty,  putty 
Preen,  pin 

Qdate,  quiet 

Bid,  red 

Saie,  sore 

Sabk,  shirt 

Sate,  seat 

Scale  (to),  to  spill 

Scaet  (to)  .  to  scratch 

Sclatks.  slates,  scales 

Sclim  (to),  to  climb 

Scoot  (to),  to  squirt 

Shin,  soon 

Shoogly,  shaky,  insecure 

SHOOGY-8HOO  (TO),  to  TOCk 

Skelp  (to),  to  whip 
Soom  (to),  to  swim 
«5oople,  supple 


Spbik  (to),  to  inquire 
Speldeon.  a  small  dried  fish 
Steeein',  restless,  energetie 
Steacht,  straight 
Steavaygin,  wandering 
Steippit,  stripped 
Sumph,  a  lout 
Subee,  soiree 
Syne,  ago 

Syne  (to),  to  wash  out 
Sweibt,  unwilling 

Tae,  toe 

Tate,  a  small  portion 

Taueby-bileb,  tar-boiler 

Tawpy,  a  "softy" 

Tewky,  a  chicken 

Thole  (to),  to  bear,  to  endure 

Thon,  yon 

Til,  to,  unto 

Tim  (to),  to  empty 

Toosie,  untidy 

Tobeib,  tassel  on  bonnet 

Tosh  up  (to),  to  tidy  up 

Wake,  weak 

Wannekt,  wandered 

Wade,  worse 

Wean,  child 

Wheen  (a),  few 

Whit  wey,  what  way,  why 

Whcmle  (to),  to  roll  about 

Wice,  wise 

Winda-sole,  window-sill 

Wulk,  whelk 

Wub,  our 

Yin,  one 
Yinst,  once 


Wee  Macgreegor 

CHAPTER  I. 

"Maw  !"  said  the  small  boy,  for  the  twenty- 
third  time  since  the  Robinson  family  began 
their  perambulations  in  Argyll  street — "maw !" 

"Whit  is't  ye're  wantin'  noo,  Macgreegor?" 
asked  his  mother,  not  without  irritation  in  her 
voice. 

"Maw,  here  a  sweetie  shope." 

"Weel,  whit  aboot  it?  Ye'll  get  yer  gundy; 
the  morn,  ma  mannie." 

"Deed,  then  ye'll  jist  ha'e  to  want.  Ye 
micht  think  shame  o'  yersel',  wantin'  gundy; 
efter  ye've  ett  twa  aipples  an'  a  pie  furbye." 

"But  I'm  hungry  yet." 

This  seemed  to  amuse  his  mother,  for  she 
laughed  and  called  to  a  big  man  in  front  of 


io  Wee   Macgreegor 

her,  who  was  carrying  a  little  girl,  "John,  Mac- 
greegor's  sayin'  he's  hungry." 

"Are  ye  hungry,  Macgreegor?"  said  John, 
halting  and  turning  to  his  son,  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye.    "Ye'll  be  wantin'  a  scone,  maybe." 

Macgregor  looked  offended,  and  his  mother 
remarked,  "No'  him !  It's  thae  sweetie  shopes 
that's  makin'  him  hungry.  But  I've  tell't  him 
he's  to  get  nae  gundy  till  the  morn's  mornin'." 

"D'ye  hear  whit  she's  sayin',  Macgreegor?" 
said  his  father.  Then,  "Come  on,  Lizzie,  an' 
we'll  get  him  a  bit  sweetie  to  taste  his  gab." 

"Ye  jist  spile  the  wean,  John,"  said  Lizzie, 
moving,  however,  with  a  good-natured  smile 
to  the  shop-window.  "But  mind,  it's  to  be 
baurley-sugar.  I'll  no  ha'e  him  film*  his 
stomach  wi'  fancy  things.  See  an'  get  baurley- 
sugar,  John,  an'  wee  Jeannie  '11  get  a  bit  o'  't. 
Wull  ye  no',  ma  daurlin'?"  she  demanded 
sweetly  of  the  child  in  her  husband's  arms. 
Wee  Jeannie  expressed  delight  in  sounds  unin- 
telligible to  any  one  but  her  mother. 


Wee   Macgreegor  ii 

"I  want  taiblet,"  said  Macgregor  to  his 
father,  in  a  whisper  rendered  hoarse  with  emo- 
tion at  the  sight  of  the  good  things  in  the  win- 
dow. 

His  mother  was  not  intended  to  hear  him, 
but  she  did.  "Taiblet!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Weans  that  gets  taiblet  gets  ile  efter." 

The  boy's  nether  lip  protruded  and  trembled 
ominously. 

"Och,  Lizzie,"  said  John,  "ye're  aye  thinkin* 
a  boot  the  future.  A  wee  bit  taiblet  '11  dae  the 
laddie  nae  hairm.  Deed,  no!  An'  fine  I  ken 
ye  like  a  bit  taiblet  yersel'." 

"Ay,  that's  a'  richt,  John.  But  ye've  shairly 
no'  forgot  whit  the  doctor  said  when  Mac- 
greegor wis  lyin'  badly  efter  ye  had  him  at  the 
Exhibeetion.  He  said  Macgreegor  had  a  wake 
disgeestion,  and  we  wis  to  be  awfu'  carefu' 
whit  he  ett.  An'  I  wis  readin'  in  the  Com- 
panion jist  the  ither  nicht  that  there  wis  nae- 
thin'  waur  fur  the  disgeestion  nor  nits,  an' 
thon  taiblet's  jist  fu'  o'  nits." 


12  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Awed,"  said  her  husband,  evidently  over- 
come by  her  reasoning,  "I'll  get  baurley- 
sugar.  Haud  wee  Jeannie."  And  he  entered 
the  shop. 

When  he  rejoined  his  family,  he  handed  the 
"wholesome  sweetmeat"  to  his  wife,  who  first 
of  all  extracted  a  short  stick  for  wee  Jeannie, 
wrapping  one  end  of  it  in  a  scrap  of  paper  torn 
from  the  "poke."  Macgregor  accepted  his 
share  in  gloomy  silence,  and  presently  the  party 
resumed  their  walk,  John  again  carrying  his 
daughter,  who  from  time  to  time  dabbed  his 
countenance  with  the  wet  end  of  her  barley- 
sugar  in  a  filial  desire  to  give  him  a  taste. 

Having  proceeded  west  about  one  hundred 
yards,  they  were  called  to  a  halt  by  Lizzie  at 
the  door  of  a  big  warehouse. 

"I'm  gaun  in  here,  John,"  she  said.  "I'm 
wantin'  a  bit  rid  flannen  fur  a  goonie  fur  wee 
Jeannie." 

"Naethin'  fur  yersel',  Lizzie  ?" 

His  wife  looked  at  something  in  one  of  the 


.Wee   Macgreegor  13 

windows  rather  wistfully.  "It's  ower  dear," 
she  murmured. 

"It's  no'  that  dear,"  said  John,  thoughtfully. 

"Weel,  it's  guid  stuff.  But  I'm  gey  sweirt 
to  pey  sae  muckle  fur  whit  I  micht  dae  wi'oot. 
An'  Macgreegor's  needin'  a  new  bunnet." 

"His  bunnet's  fine.  Jist  you  gang  in,  Lizzie, 
an'  buy  whit  ye've  got  yer  e'e  on.  We'll  see 
aboot  a  bunnet  ef ter.  Dod !  ye  maun  ha'e  yer 
Ne'rday,  wumman,  like  ither  folk.  Awa'  wi* 
ye!" 

"I'll  tak'  wee  Jeannie  in  wi'  me,"  said  Lizzie, 
looking  pleased.  "I'm  shair  yer  airm's  sair  wi' 
haudin'  her.  She's  gettin'  a  big  lassie — are  ye 
no',  ma  doo  ?"  She  stepped  into  the  doorway, 
but  returned  for  a  moment.  "See  an'  keep  a 
grup  o'  Macgreegor,  John,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  ay !  Him  an'  me  '11  jist  tak'  a  bit  daun- 
ner  up  an'  doon  till  ye  come  oot."  Having 
wiped  from  his  face  the  sticky  traces  of  his 
daughter's  affection,  and  set  his  pipe  going 
with  several  long  breaths  of  satisfaction,  he 


14  IWee   Macgreegor 

held  out  his  hand  to  his  son,  with  "Come  on, 
Macgreegor." 

Macgregor  slipped  his  small  fist  into  the  big 
one,  and  they  set  off  slowly  along  the  crowded 
pavements,  stopping  frequently  to  see  the 
sights  of  the  street  and  the  windows,  while  the 
youngster  asked  innumerable  questions,  mostly 
unanswerable. 

"Ha'e  ye  ett  yer  baurley-sugar  ?"  asked 
his  father,  during  a  pause  in  the  childish 
queries. 

"Ay ;  I've  ett  it It's  no'  as  nice  as  taiblet, 

paw." 

"But  ye'll  no'  be  carin'  fur  taiblet  noo  ?" 

"Taiblet' s  awfu'  guid,"  returned  Macgregor, 
guardedly,  with  a  glance  upward  at  his  pa- 
rent's face.  "Wullie  Thomson's  paw  gi'es 
him  taiblet  whiles." 

"Aweel,  Macgreegor,  I'm  no'  gaun  to  gi'e  ye 
taiblet. . .  .But  if  ye  wis  pittin'  yer  haun  in  ma 
pooch  ye  micht — Ye're  no'  to  let  on  to  yer 
maw,  mind!" 


Wee   Macgreegor  i«J 

The  enraptured  Macgregor's  hand  was  al- 
ready busy,  and  a  moment  later  his  jaws  were 
likewise. 

"Ye've  burst  the  poke,  ye  rogue,"  said  John, 
feeling  in  his  pocket.  "Noo,  ye' re  to  get  nae 
mair  till  the  morn.  Yer  maw  wud  gi'e  't  to 
me  if  she  kent  ye  wis  eatin'  awmonds." 

"I'll  no'  tell,"  said  Macgregor,  generously. 

As  they  approached  the  warehouse  once 
more,  John  carefully  wiped  his  son's  mouth, 
and  vainly  endeavored  to  assume  an  expression 
of  innocence. 

However,  when  Lizzie  joined  them  she  was 
too  pleased  and  proud  for  the  moment  to  sus- 
pect anything. 

"Gi'e  Jeannie  to  me,"  said  John. 

"Na,  na !  I'll  cairry  her  a  wee.  I  got  a  sate 
in  the  shope.  But  I'll  gi'e  ye  ma  paircel.  It  '11 
maybe  gang  in  yer  poket." 

"Jist,"  said  her  husband,  as  hie  stuffed  in  the 
long,  brown-paper  package.  "Did  ye  get  whit 
ye  wantit?" 


1 6  iWee   Macgreegor 

"Ay,  John,  an'  I  bate  them  doon  a  shullin'." 

"Ye're  a  rale  smairt  wumman!  Come,  an* 
we'll  gang  an'  see  the  waux-works." 

"Paw,"  put  in  Macgregor,  "I  wudna  like  to 
be  a  waux-work  when  I  wis  deid." 

"Haud  yer  tongue,  Macgreegor,"  said  his 
mother.  "John,  ye  maun  check  him  when  he 
says  sic  awfu'  things." 

"Aw,  the  wean's  fine,  Lizzie.  .  .  .  Mac- 
greegor, ye're  no'  to  say  that  again,"  he  added, 
with  an  attempt  at  solemnity. 

"Whit  wey  is  folk  made  intil  waux-works  ?" 
inquired  his  son,  not  greatly  abashed. 

"Oh,  jist  to  amuse  ither  folk." 

"But  whit  wey "     Macgregor's  inquiry 

was  interrupted  by  his  colliding  violently  with 
a  bag  carried  by  a  gentleman  hurrying  for  his 
train. 

"Ye  see  whit  ye  get  fur  no'  lukin'  whaur 
ye're  gaun,"  said  his  mother.  "Pit  his  bunnet 
stracht,  John ....  Puir  mannie,  it  wis  a  gey  sair 
dunt,"  she  added,  gently. 


Wee   Macgreegor  'Vj 

"I'm  no  greetin',  maw,"  said  Macgregor,  in 
a  quavering  voice,  rubbing  his  eyes  with  his 
cuff. 

"That's  a  braw  lad !"  said  Lizzie. 

"Never  heed,  Macgreegor!  Ye'll  be  a  man 
afore  yer  mither !"  said  John. 

Thus  consoled,  the  boy  trotted  on  with  his 
parents  till  they  reached  the  gaudy  entrance  of 
the  wax-works. 

"Noo,  I'll  tak'  Jeannie,"  said  the  hus- 
band. "^ 

"Ay;  that  '11  be  the  best  wey  fur  gaun  in. 
An'  I'll  tak'  the  paircel,  fur  it  '11  be  in  yer 
road."  So  saying,  Lizzie  handed  her  charge  to 
John.  Then  she  pulled  the  parcel  from  his 
pocket ;  and  lo  and  behold !  it  came  out  accom- 
panied by  sundry  fragments  of  taiblet,  which 
fell  on  the  pavement. 

John  would  have  dropped  anything  else  but 
his  present  burden.  Macgregor  gazed  at  the 
dainties  at  his  feet,  but  did  not  dare  attempt 
to  secure  them.    Lizzie  looked  pitilessly  from 


1 8  Wee   Macgreegor 

one  to  the  other.  It  was  a  tableau  worthy  of 
wax. 

But  who  can  follow  the  workings  of  the 
childish  mind?  Two  tears  crept  into  Mae- 
gregor's  eyes  as  he  raised  them  fearfully  to  his 
mother's  face. 

"Paw  never  ett  ony,"  he  mumbled. 

The  expression  on  Lizzie's  face  changed  to 
astonishment. 

"Whit's  that  ye  say?" 

"P-p-paw  never  ett  ony,"  the  boy  repeated. 

And  then,  of  a  sudden,  Lizzie's  astonishment 
became  amusement. 

"Deed,  ye' re  jist  a  pair  o'  weans !"  And  she 
laughed  against  her  will. 

"It  wis'  a'  ma  fau't,  Lizzie,"  said  John. 

"Ay ;  ye  sud  ha'e  pit  the  taiblet  in  yer  ither 

pocket !     Eh  ? Na,   na,   Macgreegor,  ye'll 

jist  let  the  taiblet  lie,"  she  exclaimed  as  the  boy 
stooped  to  seize  it. 

"There  nae  glaur  on  it,  maw." 

"Ay,  but  there  is.    Come  awa'J" 


,Wee   Macgreegor  19 

And  away  Macgregor  was  pulled  to  see  the 
wax-works. 

But  why  did  paw  wink  at  his  son  and  point 
stealthily  to  his  "pooch", J! 


CHAPTER  II. 

"Paw,"  said  Macgregor,  as  the  family  party 
turned  out  of  Sauchiehall  street  into  Cambridge 
street — "paw,  whit  wey  dae  they  ca'  it  the 
Zoo?" 

"Deed,  Macgreegor,  ye  bate  me  there,"  re- 
turned his  father.  "Lizzie,"  he  said  to  his 
wife,  "Macgreegor's  speirin'  whit  wey  they  ca' 
it  the  Zoo." 

"Macgreegor's  aye  speirin',"  said  Lizzie. 
4 'If  they  didna  ca'  it  the  Zoo,  whit  wud  they 
ca'  it?" 

"Weel,  that's  true,"  observed  her  husband. 

"But  it's  a  queer  word,  Zoo;  an'  the  mair  ye 

think  o'    't    the    queerer   it    gets.     I  mind  I 

yinst " 

"Paw,  wull  we  shin  be  there?"  inquired  his 
20 


.Wee   Macgreegor  21; 

son,  whose  philological  craving  was  apparently 
neither  very  severe  nor  lasting. 

"Ay,  ye'll  be  there  in  a  meenit.  Lizzie,  are 
ye  shair  it's  a'  richt  aboot  takin'  wee  Jeannie  in 
to  see  the  beasts  ?    I  doot  she'll  be  frichtit." 

"Frichtit  ?  Nae  fear,  John !  Wee  Jeannie's 
no'  that  easy  frichtit.  Losh  me!  When  the 
meenister  wis  in  the  hoose  on  Wensday,  wee 
Jeannie  wisna  a  bit  feart — wis  ye,  ma  doo? 
She  jist  laucht  til  him,  an'  played  dab  at  his  e'e 
wi'  the  leg  o'  her  auld  jumpin'-jake.  Mr. 
Broon  wis  fair  divertit,  an'  gi'ed  her  yin  o'  his 
cough  lozengers.  Na,  na,  John;  she's  no  that 
easy  frichtit." 

"Aweel,  ye  ken  best,  Lizzie.  See,  gi'e  her 
to  me." 

"Oh,  I'll  haud  her  till  we  get  inside.  She'll 
shin  be  walkin'  her  lanesome — wull  ye  no', 
honey?  Jist  keep  a  grup  o'  Macgreegor,  John, 
or  he'll  be  fleein'  awa'  an'  gettin'  rin  ower  or 
wannert." 

"Paw,"  said  Macgregor,  "I  see  the  Zoo." 


22  [Wee   Macgreegor 

"Ay,  thon's  hit.  Ye  never  see  wild  beasts 
afore,  Macgreegor?" 

"I  near  seen  wild  beasts  in  the  shows  at  the 
Lairgs,  paw." 

"Aw,  ay;  ye  wis  bidin'  wi'  yer  aunt  Purdie 
then.  She  wud  be  feart  to  gang  in  whaur  the 
beasts  wis." 

"Aunt  Purdie's  an  auld  footer,"  said  Mac- 
gregor. 

"Whisht,  whisht!"  interposed  his  mother. 
"Ye' re  no'  to  speak  that  wey  aboot  yer  aunt 
Purdie.  She's  a  rale  dacent  wumman.  .  .  . 
John,  ye  sudna  lauch  at  Macgreegor's  talk ;  ye 
jist  mak'  him  think  he's  smairt." 

"Aw,  the  wean's  fine,  Lizzie.  iYVeel,  we'll 
get  across  the  road  noo." 

"Whit  wey "  began  the  boy. 

"Macgreegor,  tak'  yer  paw's  haun*.  I'm  no 
wantin'  ye  to  be  catched  wi'  yin  o'  thae  electric- 
caurs,"  said  his  mother. 

The  street  was  crossed  without  mishap,  and 
presently  the  quartet  found  themselves  within 


IWee   Macgreegor  23 

the  Zoo.  For  a  couple  of  minutes,  perhaps, 
they  paused  on  the  threshold,  uncertain  which 
direction  to  take.  Then  the  announcement 
made  by  an  official  in  a  loud  voice  to  the  effect 
that  a  performance  by  the  lions  and  tigers  was 
about  to  take  place  on  the  west  side  of  the  build- 
ing sent  them  hurrying  thither  with  the  crowd, 
Macgregor  for  once  in  his  life  being  too  over- 
come for  speech. 

-■■  Beyond  sundry  ejaculations,  little  conversa- 
tion took  place  while  the  trainer  exhibited  his 
pluck  and  wonderful  command  over  the  brutes ; 
and  it  might  have  been  observed  that  Mac- 
gregor never  once  made  the  slightest  attempt 
to  withdraw  his  fingers  from  the  fatherly 
clasp. 

"Mercy  me!     It's    maist  wunnerfu' !"    ex- 
claimed Lizzie,  when  it  was  all  over. 

"Dod,  it  bates  a'!"  said  John,  as  he  took 
wee  Jeannie  from  her  arms. 

And  a  small  voice  at  his  side  whispered, 
hoarsely,  "I  wisna  feart,  paw !" 


24  iWee  Macgreegor 

"Macgreegor's  sayin'  he  wisna  feart,  Liz- 
zie," said  John  to  his  wife. 

"Maybe  he  wisna,"  returned  Lizzie,  "but  I 
can  tell  ye  I  wis  a'  shakin'  when  thae  muckle 
brits  wis  loupin'  aboot  the  man.  I  wis  wun- 
nerin'  whit  I  wud  dae  wi'  wee  Jeannie  if  ony 
o'  the  beasts  wun  oot  the  cages  an'  commenced 
fur  to  pu'  the  heids  an'  legs  aff  the  folk." 

"Och,  wumman,  there's  nae  fear  o'  that." 

"If  a  beast  wis  gaun  fur  to  pu'  ma  heid  off," 
remarked  Macgregor,  who  had  grown  sudden- 
ly bold,  "I— I— I— wud— I  wud  gi'e  't  a  kick !" 

" Ye're  the  boy !"  said  his  father. 

"Ye  sudna  let  him  boast  like  that,  John," 
said  Lizzie,  reprovingly. 

"Whit  wud  ye  dae,  Macgreegor,"  asked 
John,  with  a  grin,  "if  a  beast  wis  efter  yer 
maw  ?" 

"I — I — wud  pu'  its  tail,"  replied  the  valiant 

Macgregor.    "And  then  I  wud "    A  loud 

roar  from  one  of  the  lions  interrupted  him  and 
caused  him  to  clutch  at  his  parent. 


Wee   Macgreegor  25 

"Aw,  Macgreegor,"  said  his  mother,  "I  doot 
ye  wud  jist  rin  awa'  an'  leave  yer  maw  to  be 
ett." 

The  boy's  under-lip  trembled.  "I  wudna  dae 
that,  maw,"  he  said,  solemnly. 

"Wud  ye  no',  ma  dearie?"  said  Lizzie,  her 
voice  softening.  "Weel,  weel,  we'll  say  nae 
mair  aboot  it.  Whit's  yer  paw  an'  wee  Jeannie 
efter  noo?" 

"It's  an  elephant,  maw,"  said  Macgregor, 
as  they  overtook  the  father  and  daughter,  who 
were  admiring  the  stuffed  carcass  of  a  huge, 
elephant. 

"He's  no  leevin',"  John  explained.  "He's 
the  yin  that  had  to  be  shot  a  while  syne." 

"Whit  wey  wis  he  shot,  paw  ?" 

"He  wis  dangerous." 

"Whit  wey  wis  he  dangerous?" 

"I'm  no  jist  shair,  but  a  man  yinst  tell't  me 
the  beast  wis  trampin'  on  his  keepers,  an'  eatin' 
the  bunnets  aff  the  folk's  heids." 

'Taw,  whit's  thon  big  white  oosie  beast?" 


26  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Ttion  yin  ?    Dae  ye  ken,  Lizzie  ?" 

"I've  seen  picturs  like  it,  John.  It's  a— oh, 
ay,  it's  a  Polish  bear." 

"Dod,  ay!  It  wud  gey  shin  polish  aff  you 
an'  me,  wumman,"  said  John,  laughing  heart- 
ily. 

"Dod,  ay !"  echoed  Macgregor. 

"Ye're  no'  to  say  that,"  said  Lizzie. 

"Whit,  maw?" 

"Ye're  no'  to  say  Mod/  " 

"Paw  says  it,  maw." 

"Weel,  yer  paw  sudna  say  'L" 

"Whit  wey,  maw?" 

"Ha'e,  Lizzie,"  said  John,  handing  his  wife 
a  catalogue  which  he  had  just  purchased,  "that 
'11  tell  ye  the  names  o'  the  beasts.  Whit  dae 
they  ca'  thon  strippit " 

"Maw,  whit's  the  name  o'  thon  spotit  yin?" 
cried  Macgregor. 

"They're  baith  Hyaenies,"  replied  Lizzie, 
after  consulting  the  numbers  on  the  cages 
and  the  booklet.    "Thon  big  black  beast  wi' 


Wee   Macgreegor  2.7 

the  awfu'  tae-nails  is  the  Aswail  or  Sloth 
Bear." 

"Ay,  it's  jist  Aswail  it's  in  its  cage,"  re- 
marked her  husband,  with  a  chuckle. 

"My!  ye're  rale  smairt  the  day,  John,  wi' 
yer  bit  jokes.    But  whaur's  Macgreegor  ?" 

The  youngster  was  discovered,  after  some 
search,  at  the  other  side  of  the  building,  gazing 
with  an  expression  of  awe  at  a  couple  of  camels. 

"Paw,  the  wee  yin's  face  is  unco  like  Aunt 
Purdie,"  he  observed. 

His  father  guffawed. 

His  mother  frowned.  "John,  I've  tell't  ye 
afore  no'  to  lauch  when  Macgreegor  says  im- 
pident  things.    I  wunner  at  ye!" 

"But,  Lizzie,  I  cudna  help  it  this  time.  Dod, 
I  thocht  it  wis  gey  like  yer  brither's  guidwife 
masel' !" 

"John!" 

"As  shair's  daith!  It's  jist  the  face  she  pits 
on  when  she's  comin'  oot  the  kirk  on  a  wat 
Sawbath." 


28  Wee   Macgreegor 

" Weel,  she  canna  help  her  face,  puir  thing !" 
said  Lizzie. 

"I  never  cud  unnerstaun'  hoo  yer  brither 
Rubbert  cud  mairry  sic  an  auld  bogle,  an'  him 
wi'  sic  a  braw  sister." 

"Hoots,  John !  Ye're  fair  aff  at  the  nail  the 
day !"  said  Lizzie,  trying  not  to  smile. 

"Paw,  whit  wey  ha'e  the  caymels  nae  trunks 
like  the  ephelants  ?" 

"Macgreegor,"  remarked  Lizzie,  "ye  wud 
turn  Solyman  hissel'  dementit !  Jist  luk  at  the 
humphs  on  their  backs,  an'  dinna  fash  yer " 

"Paw,  whit  wey  ha'e  the  caymels  got 
humphs  ?" 

"Man,  ye're  a  fair  divert,  Macgreegor,"  said 
John.  "Maybe  it's  because  they  ha'e  nae 
trunks.  See,  there's  a  penny  fur  ye.  Awa'  to 
the  stall  ower  thonder,  an'  get  a  wheen  biscuits 
fur  the  beasts." 

"I'm  gaun  to  feed  the  ephelants,"  Mac- 
gregor  announced  on  his  return. 

"That's  richt !   See,  there  the  big  yin  haudin' 


.Wee   Macgreegor  29 

oot  his  trunk.  .  .  .  Dod,  a  biscuit's  naethin'  to 
him.  Gi'e  yin  to  wee  Jeannie  an'  she'll  feed 
the  ither  yin." 

"Is  the  ephelant's  trunk  jist  the  same  as  a 
man's  neb,  paw  ?"  inquired  Macgregor. 

"Ay,  jist  the  same." 

"Whit  wey  dae  folk  no'  pick  up  things  wi' 
their  nebs,  paw  ?" 

"Aw,  hand  yer  tongue,  Macgreegor,"  said 
his  mother.  "John,  bring  wee  Jeannie  ower  to 
see  the  paurrits."  / 

The  birds  having  been  duly  admired  and 
commented  upon,  Macgregor  was  again  dis- 
covered to  be  missing.  This  time  he  was  found 
engaged  in  making  faces  at  a  family  of  mon- 
keys. 

"Come  awa'  fiae  the  nesty  things!"  cried 
Lizzie.  "I  canna  thole  monkeys,  John.  Whit 
'11  thon  beast  be  in  the  watter?" 

"The  number's  wan-twinty-nine." 

"Oh,  ay.  Common  Seal,  frae  the  German 
Ocean.    Ah,  but  that  '11  be  the  wee  yin.    The 


3o  Wee   Macgreegor 

big  yin's  a  Californian  Sea  Lion.    Macgreegor, 

here's  a  sea  lion !" 

"It's  no  vera  like  a  lion,  maw.  ...  I  see 

its  whuskers !    Whit  wey  has  it  nae  oose  on  its 

feet?" 

"Thae  things  isna  feet.    Thae's  fins." 
"Whit    wey    has    it    nae  oose  on  its  fins, 

paw  ?" 

"Maybe   it   cudna   soom   wi'   oose   on   its 

fins." 

"Whit  wey  cud  it  no'  soom  wi'  oose  on " 

"Come  awa'  an'  see  this  extraornar  beast, 

Macgreegor,"  said  Lizzie.     "The  book  says 

it's  ca'ed  a  tapir." 

"Whit  wey  is  't  ca'ed  a  tapir,  maw  ?" 

"Gi'e  't  a  bit  biscuit,"  returned  his  mother, 

evasively.     "Puir  beastie,  it's  lukin'  gey  doon 

i'  the  mooth,  is  't  no',  John  ?" 

"It's  a'    that.      But  I  wid  be  doon  i'  the 

mooth,  masel',  Lizzie,  wi'  a  neb  like  that  on 

me.     See  an'  no'  let  it  nip  yer  fingers,  Mac- 
greegor." 


iWee   Macgreegor  31 

"Whit  wey  is  its  neb  sae  shoogly,  paw  ?" 

"Dod,  Macgreegor,  I'm  thinkin'  it  kens  ye. 
It's  wagglin'  its  neb  at  ye  fur  anither  bit  bis- 
cuit." 

"John,"  said  his  wife,  "I'll  tak'  wee  Jeannie 
an'  ha'e  a  sate  fur  a  wee." 

"Are  ye  wearit  ?  Wud  ye  no'  like  a  dish  o' 
tea?" 

"Och,  I'm  no'  needin'  tea,  John.'* 

"Plenty  folk  tak'  tea  when  they're  no'  needin' 
it.    Come  on,  Lizzie. 

Lizzie  shook  her  head  and  muttered  some- 
thing about  "gentry"  and  "wastry." 

"I — I  got  a  rise  in  ma  pey  the  day,  Lizzie," 
said  her  husband,  suddenly. 

"Did  ye  that,  John?" 

"Ay !     Hauf-a-croon." 

"Deed,  I  wis  thinkin'  it  wis  mair  nor  nae- 
thin'  that  wis  makin'  ye  sae  jokey-like,"  said 
Lizzie,  with  a  laugh. 

"Come  on,  Lizzie.    Here,  Macgreegor!" 

"Paw,  whit  wey " 


32  [WEE    Macgreegor 

"Aw,  ye'll  see  the  beasts  again  in  a  wee. 
Cud  ye  eat  a  pie?" 

Macgregor  drew  a  long  breath.  "Cud  I 
no'  ?"  he  exclaimed,  beaming. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  Robinsons  were  on  their  way  to  tea  at 
Aunt  Purdie's,  and  the  anxious  Lizzie  was 
counselling  her  son  regarding  his  behavior  at 
the  table  of  that  excellent  lady. 

"Noo,  Macgreegor,"  she  said,  "ye' re  no'  to 
affront  me.  Yer  Aunt  Purdie's  rale  genteel, 
an'  awfu'  easy  offendit." 

"Dod,  ay!"  said  John,  "ye'll  ha'e  to  mind 
yer  Q.P.'s  the  day,  as  the  sayin'  is." 

"Dod,  ay!"  said  Macgregor. 

"I've  tell  't  ye  dizzens  o'  times,  Macgreegor, 
ye're  no'  to  say  that,"  said  his  mother. 

"I  furgot,  maw." 

"If  yer  Aunt  Purdie  wis  hearin'  ye  speak 
that  wey  she  wud  be  sair  pit  oot.  An',  John," 
turning  to  her  husband,  "ye  sud  be  mair  carefu' 
whit  ye  say  afore  the  wean.  He's  jist  like  a 
paurrit  fur  pickin'  up  words." 


34  iWee   Macgreegor 

"Dod,  ay!"  said  John,  seriously,  "I'll  ha'e  to 
be  carefu',  Lizzie." 

"Ye're  an  awfu'  man,"  said  his  wife,  frown- 
ing and  smiling. 

"Wull  I  get  a  tert  at  Aunt  Purdie's?"  in- 
quired Macgregor. 

"Ye'll  see  whit  ye'll  get  when  ye  get  it,"  re- 
plied his  mother.  "An'  mind,  Macgreegor, 
ye're  no'  to  be  askin'  fur  jeely  till  ye've  ett  twa 
bits  o'  breed-an'-butter.  It's  no'  mainners ;  an' 
yer  Aunt  Purdie's  rale  parteeclar.  An'  yer  no' 
to  dicht  yer  mooth  wi'  yer  cuff — mind  that. 
Ye're  to  tak'  yer  hanky  an'  let  on  ye're  jist 
gi'ein'  yer  nib  a  bit  wipe.  An'  ye're  no'  to 
scale  yer  tea  nor  sup  the  sugar  if  ony's  left  in 
yer  cup  when  ye're  dune  drinkin'.  An'  if  ye 
drap  yer  piece  on  the  floor,  ye're  no'  to  gang 
efter  it;  ye're  jist  to  let  on  ye've  ett  it.  An* 
ye're  no' " 

"Deed,  Lizzie,"  interposed  her  husband, 
"ye're  the  yin  to  think  aboot  things !" 

"Wed,  John,  if  I  dinna  tell  Macgreegor  hoo 


(Wee   Macgreegor  35 

to  behave  hissel',  he'll  affront  me.  It's  maybe 
a  sma'  maitter  to  a  man,  John,  but  a  wumman 
disna  like  to  be  pit  oot  afore  her  guid  sister. 
An',  John,  ye' re  to  try  an'  be  discreet  yersel', 
an'  think  afore  ye  mak'  a  bit  joke,  ftrr  she's  a 
rale  genteel  wumman,  an'  awfu'  easy  offendit." 

"But  yer  brither  likes  a  lauch,  Lizzie." 

"Ay,  Rubbert's  a  herty  man ;  but  a'  the  same, 
John,  ye're  no'  to  gar  him  lauch  abin  his  breith. 
An'  yer  no'  to  lauch  yersel'  if  Macgreegor  tries 
to  be  smairt." 

"A'  richt,  Lizzie,"  said  her  husband,  good- 
humoredly.  "Dod,  I'm  thinkin'  ye're  jist  aboot 
as  feart  fur  me  as  fur  the  wean." 

"Havers,  John!  I'm  no'  finnin'  fau't  wi' 
you.    It's  jist  that  ye  whiles  furget  yer " 

"Ma  Q.P.'s." 

"Ay,  yer  Q.P.'s,  as  ye  ca'  it.  I  aye  thocht 
Q.P.'s  wis  a  kin'  o'  fit-ba'." 

Her  husband  was  about  to  explain  when 
Macgregor  exclaimed  that  Aunt  Purdie's 
dwelling  was  in  sight. 


36  kWEE    Macgreegor 

"Ay,  it's  the  third  close,"  remarked  John, 
proceeding  to  plug  his  pipe  with  a  scrap  of 
newspaper.  After  that  he  pulled  up  his  collar, 
tightened  his  tie,  cocked  his  hat  a  little  over  one 
eye,  winked  at  his  wife,  and  chucked  wee  Jean- 
nie  under  the  chin. 

"I  wud  jist  as  shin  be  at  home,  Lizzie,"  he 
observed,  as  they  turned  into  the  close. 

"Whisht,  John !  Mrs.  Purdie's  a  rale  dacent 
wumman,  an' — an'  we  needna  wait  ower  lang. 
See  if  ye  can  gi'e  Macgreegor's  hair  a  bit  tosh 
up.  It's  awfu'  ill  to  lie.  .  .  .  Noo,  John,  ye'll 
gang  furrit  an'  ring  the  bell.  Mind,  ye're  to 
speir  if  Mrs.  Purdie  is  in  afore  ye  gang  ower 
the  doorstep." 

"But  she  wudna  ha'e  askit  us  to  wur  tea  if 
she  had  been  fur  gaun  oot,"  said  John. 

"Tits,  man !  Mrs.  Purdie  keeps  a  wee  ser- 
vant lass,  an'  ye  maun  speir  at  her  if  her  mis- 
tress is  in.  Mind,  yer  no'  to  say  'it's  a  fine 
day,'  or  onythin'  like  that;  ye're  jist  to  speir  if 
Mrs.  Purdie's  in.    D'  ye  see?" 


kWEE    Macgreegor  Z7 

"Weel,  weel,  witmman,  onythin'  fur  peace." 
And  John  pulled  the  bell-handle.  "I  ken  she's 
in,"  he  whispered.  "I  hear  her  roarin'  at  some- 
body." 

"Sh !  John.    Jist  dae  whit  I  tell  't  ye.r' 

The  door  was  opened,  and  John  bashfully 
repeated  the  formula. 

"Will  you  please  step  in?"  said  the  do- 
mestic, a  small,  rosy-cheeked  girl,  who  still 
showed  her  ankles,  though  she  had  put  her 
hair  up. 

"Dicht  yer  feet,  Macgreegor,  dicht  yer  feet," 
said  Lizzie,  in  a  quick,  loud  whisper.  "See, 
dicht  them  on  the  bass." 

I     Macgregor  obeyed  with   great  vigor,   and 
followed  the  others  into  the  lobby. 

"Paw,  we've  a  brawer  nock  nor  that  yin," 
he  remarked,  in  a  husky  undertone,  pointing  at 
a  grandfather's  clock  in  a  corner. 

"Whisht !"  said  his  mother,  nervously. 

"Wull  I  pit  ma  bunnet  in  ma  pooch,  maw  ?" 
asked  the  boy. 


38  JWee   Macgreegor 

"Na,  na !  John,  put  his  bunnet  up  aside  yetf 
Bin. 

Just  then  Mrs.  Purdie  appeared  and  bade 
them  welcome;  and  presently  they  were  gath- 
ered in  the  parlor,  the  table  of  which  was  al- 
ready laid  for  tea.  Mr.  Purdie  was  getting  on 
well  in  the  world — his  grocery  establishment 
was  gaining  new  customers  daily — and  Mrs. 
Purdie  was  inclined,  alas !  to  look  down  on  her 
homely  relatives,  and  to  regard  their  manners 
and  speech  as  vulgar,  with  the  result  that  her 
own  manners  were  frequently  affected,  while 
her  speech  was  sometimes  a  strange  mixture. 

"And  how  are  you  to-day,  Macgregor  ?"  she 
asked  the  boy  as  they  sat  round  the  fire. 

"I'm  fine,"  replied  Macgregor,  glancing  at 
the  good  things  on  the  table. 

"Fine  what  ?"  said  Aunt  Purdie. 
1     "Ye  sud  say,  'Fine,  thenk  ye/  "  whispered 
his  mother,  giving  him  a  nudge. 

"Fine,  thenk  ye,"  said  Macgregor,  obedi- 
ently.   "I  wis  at  the  Zoo.". 


Wee  Macgreegor  39 

"Oh,  indeed.  And  what  did  you  see  at  the 
Zoo?" 

"Beasts,  tfienk  you,"  said  Macgregor. 

"An*  hoo's  Rubbert?"  asked  Lizzie,  with 
some  haste. 

"Robert  is  keeping  well,  thank  you ;  but  he's 
sorry  he  cannot  leave  the  shop  this  evening. 
His  young  man  was  unfortunately  rin  over  by 
an  electric-caur  yesterday." 

"Oh,  thae  caurs!"  said  Lizzie.  "I'm  aye 
feart  fur  Macgreegor  gettin'  catched,  an'  com* 
in'  hame  wantin*  a  leg." 

"Robert's  young  man  got  conclusion  of  the 
brain,"  said  Aunt  Purdie,  with  great  solemnity. 
"He  was  carrying  a  dizzen  of  eggs  an'  a  pun' 
of  the  best  ham  when  the  melancholy  accident 
occurred." 

"Dae  ye  tell  me  that?"  exclaimed  Lizzie. 
"An'  wis  the  eggs  a'  broke?" 

"With  two  exceptions."  And  Aunt  Purdie 
went  on  to  describe  the  accident  in  detail  to 
Lizzie,  while  John  and  Macgregor  looked  out 


40  Wee   Macgreegor 

of  the  window,  and  wee  Jeannie,  who  had  been 
put  on  the  floor  to  "play  herself,"  found  amuse- 
ment in  pulling  to  pieces  a  half-knitted  stock- 
ing which  she  discovered  in  a  basket  under  the 
sofa. 

Soon  the  little,  rosy-cheeked  maid  entered 
with  the  teapot,  and  they  all  took  their  places 
at  table,  wee  Jeannie  being  lifted  on  to  her 
mother's  knee  and  warned  not  to  touch  the 
knife. 

"Mr.  Robinson,"  said  Aunt  Purdie,  looking 
very  hard  at  John,  "kindly  ask  a  blessing." 

John  turned  red  and  mumbled  something, 
at  the  end  of  which  he  wiped  his  brow  and 
loudly  blew  his  nose. 

The  hostess,  after  looking  for  a  moment  as 
if  she  thought  it  rather  an  inferior  "blessing," 
commenced  her  duties. 

"I'm  no'  wantin'  a  joog,  maw,"  said  Mac- 
gregor  to  his  mother,  as  he  observed  Aunt 
Purdie  filling  a  mug  with  milk  and  hot 
water. 


[Wee   Macgreegor  4* 

"It's  fur  wee  Jeannie,"  whispered  Lizzie. 
"But  ye're  jist  to  tak'  whit  ye  get." 

Conversation  flagged  for  the  first  five  min- 
utes.   Then  Mrs.  Purdie  broke  the  silence. 

"Have  you  been  going  out  much  this  winter, 
Mr.  Robinson  ?"  she  inquired,  in  her  best  style. 

For  an  instant  John  gaped.  "Dod,  Mrs. 
Purdie,  I'm  gled  to  say  I've  no'  been  aff  ma 
work  a  day  since  the  New  Year." 

"I  mean  out  to  entertainments,  parties,  and 
conversonies,"  said  Mrs.  Purdie,  with  a  pitying 
smile. 

"Oh,  ay.  Aweel,  Lizzie  an'  me  likes  the  fire- 
side, but  we've  been  to  the  Zoo  an'  the  panty- 
mine  an'  twa-three  surees," 

"I  like  surees,"  observed  Macgregor,  dig- 
ging into  a  pot  of  jam.  By  a  strange  mis- 
chance he  had  already  dropped  two  pieces  of 
plain  bread-and-butter  on  the  floor,  but  to  his 
credit  it  must  be  recorded  that  he  had  remem- 
bered his  mother's  injunction  not  to  attempt  to 
recover  them. 


42  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Ay,  Macgreegor's  the  yin  fur  surees,"  said 
John.  "He  cam'  hame  frae  the  Sawbath- 
schule  suree  the  ither  nicht  wi'  fower  orangers 
an'  guid  kens  hoo  mony  pokes  o'  sweeties." 

"An'  he  had  to  get  ile  i'  the  mornin',"  said 
Lizzie,  whose  time  was  chiefly  occupied  in 
feeding  wee  Jeannie. 

"Do  you  like  oil  ?"  said  Mrs.  Purdie,  smiling 
sourly  at  Macgregor. 

1     "Naw,"  returned  the  boy,  with  his  mouth 
full.    "Dae  you  like  ile,  Aunt  Purdie?" 

"Whisht!"  said  his  mother,  reprovingly. 

"Assist  yourself  to  a  cookie,  Mr.  Robinson," 
said  Mrs.  Purdie,  a  trifle  confused.  "And 
pass  your  cup.  Mrs.  Robinson,  is  your  tea 
out?" 

'    "Thenk  you,"  said  Lizzie.    "This  is  rale  nice 
cake,  Mrs.  Purdie." 

"It  was  recommended  to  me  by  Mrs. 
M'Cluny,  the  doctor's  wife.  Mrs.  M'Cluny  is 
very  highly  connected,  quite  autocratic,  in  fact. 
Her  and  me  is  great  friends.    I  expect  to  meet 


Wee   Macgreegor  43 

her  at  the  Carmunnock  conversonie  on  Monday 
night — a    very    select    gathering.       Her   an' 


me- 


"Paw,  I  want  a  tert." 

"Na,  John,"  said  Lizzie,  "he's  had  yin." 

"I  want  anither,  maw." 

"Ye  canna  ha'e  anither,  Macgreegor.  Weel, 
Mrs.  Purdie,  ye  wis  sayin' " 

"I  was  observing " 

"Paw,  gi'e  's  a  curran'-cake,"  said  Mac- 
gregor,  in  a  whisper. 

John  winked  at  his  son,  and  stealthily  moved 
the  dish  of  dainties  in  his  direction. 

The  two  ladies  were  discussing  the  coming 
"conversonie"  and  appeared  oblivious  to  what 
was  going  on.  The  plate  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  at  last  Macgregor's  eager  paw  went 
cautiously  toward  it.  The  currant-cake  was 
secured,  but  as  the  boy  drew  back  his  hand  his 
mother  detected  him. 

"Macgreegor!"  she  exclaimed. 

The  hapless  youngster  started  guiltily.  Over 


44  iWee   Macgreegor 

went  the  jam-pot,  spreading  its  contents  on 
the  cloth ;  over  went  Macgregor's  teacup,  which 
was  smashed  to  atoms  on  the  floor.  Wee  Jean- 
nie,  with  a  gurgle  of  delight,  evidently  under 
the  impression  that  something  in  the  way  of 
entertainment  was  expected  of  her,  tipped  her 
mug  after  the  cup,  while  her  father,  rising  in 
confusion,  sent  a  plate  and  five  cookies  to  swell 
the  wreckage.  > 

John  stood  helpless ;  Lizzie  sat  speechless  and 
pale ;  wee  Jeannie,  discovering  that  it  wasn't  a 
joke,  after  all,  set  up  a  dismal  wailing;  and 
Macgregor,  with  quivering  lip  and  misty  eye, 
stared  at  the  ruin  he  had  wrought.  No  one 
dared  to  look  at  Aunt  Purdie.  Her  expression 
was  grim — very  grim,  indeed.  When  she  did 
speak,  her  words  were  few  but  incisive.  They 
had  reference  to  the  bringing-up  of  children, 
of  which,  she  thanked  Providence,  she  had 
none.  Poor  Lizzie  apologized  for  her  son, 
expressed  herself  "fair  affrontit"  at  his  con- 
ductA  and   declared   that   she  would  "sort" 


.*p   Wee   Macgreegor  45 

him  when  they  got  home.  The  hour  fol- 
lowing tea  was  an  uncomfortable  one,  and 
John  did  not  conceal  his  relief  at  being  out  of 
the  house. 

"She'll  no'  ask  us  back,"  he  observed. 

Lizzie  said  nothing. 

"Macgreegor's  savin'  he's  gey  an'  sorry," 
said  John,  presently. 

"Muckle  need,"  muttered  Lizzie. 

"He's  sayin'  he'll  tak'  ile  if  ye  like,"  went  on 
her  husband. 

"He'll  get  mair  nor  ile!" 

"Aw,  wumman,  the  wean  cudna  help  it.  It 
wis  a'  an  accident.  Let  him  off  this  time,  Liz- 
zie. I  broke  a  plate  masel',  ye  ken,  an'  wee 
Jeannie  broke  a  joog.  Are  we  a'  to  get  ile  an' 
— an'  the  ither  thing,  dearie  ?" 

"Och,  John,  ye  aye  get  ower  me." 

And  so  peace  reigned  again. 

Ten  minutes  later  John  noticed  that  Mac- 
gregor  wras  lagging  behind.  He  went  back  a 
couple  of  steps  and  took  his  son's  hand. 


46  IWee  Majcgreegor 

"Whit's  that  ye're  pittin'  in  yer  gab,  Mao 
greegor  ?"  he  asked,  suddenly. 

Macgregor  drew  something  from  his  pocket. 
"I'll  gi'e  ye  a  bit,  paw,"  he  said,  generously. 
"It's  a  curran'-cake."' 


CHAPTER  IV, 

"Jist  ye  gang  oot  an'  dae  yer  messages,  Liz- 
zie, an'  I'll  mind  Macgreegor,"  said  John,  when 
he  had  finished  his  tea. 

"Ye'll  no'  let  him  speak,  John,"  said  Lizzie, 
rising  and  beginning  to  remove  the  dishes  from 
the  table  to  the  jaw-box  with  as  little  noise  as 
possible.  "Ye  ken  he  didna  sleep  a  wink  a* 
nicht,  an'  he  had  jist  a  wee  doze  at  denner-time. 
He's  needin'  a  guid  sleep,  puir  mannie,  sae  ye 
maun  keep  him  as  quate  's  ye  can,  John." 
Husband  and  wife  talked  in  whispers. 

"Dae  ye  think  he's  better  the  nicht  ?"  askecl 
the  former,  anxiously. 

"Oh,  ay ;  I  ken  he's  a  bit  better,  but  he's  no' 
near  ready  fur  the  turkey's  egg  ye  brocht  hame 
the  day,  John." 

"I  thocht  it  micht  gi'e  him  strength,  Lizzie.'* 

47 


48  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Deed,  ay.  But,  ye  see,  his  inside's  ower 
wake  yet.  He'll  get  the  egg  as  shin  as  he  can 
disgeest  it." 

"Ay,"  said  John,  agreeably,  but  looking  dis- 
appointed. 

"Ye  hivna  ony  sweeties  in  yer  pooch  ?"  said 
Lizzie,  suddenly  and  interrogatively,  glancing 
at  him  as  she  dried  a  saucer. 

John  pretended  he  did  not  hear,  and  his  wife 
repeated  the  question  quietly  but  firmly. 

"Och,  jist  a  wheen  joojoobs,  wumman,"  he 
replied,  at  last. 

"Aweel,  John,  I'll  jist  tak'  chairge  o*  them 
till  the  wean's  ready  fur  sweeties." 

"I'll  no'  gi'e  Macgreegor  ony  the  nicht,  Liz- 
zie," he  said,  looking  uncomfortable. 

"I  ken  that." 

"Tak*  them  oot  o'  ma  pooch,"  said  John, 
smiling  ruefully,  and  pointing  to  his  jacket 
hung  beside  the  door. 

"Tak*  them  oot  yersel',"  returned  his  wife, 
"an'  pit  them  in  the  wee  drawer  in  the  dresser." 


,Wee   Macgreegor  49 

"Ye're  an  awfu'  wumman!" 

"Ye're  an  awfu'  man !" 

"Maybe  ye're  richt." 

"Weel,  John,  ye've  plenty  o*  whit  they  ca' 
common-sense  in  maist  things,  but  ye' re  jist  a 
wean  aboot  Macgreegor,"  said  Lizzie. 

"Ay,"  said  John,  humbly. 

"An'  I've  got  to  keep  an  e'e  on  ye,  dearie," 
she  added,  more  gently.  "Noo,  I'm  dependin' 
on  ye  to  keep  Macgreegor  quate,"  she  said,  a 
little  later.  "I'll  no'  be  lang.  An'  I'll  get  wee 
Jeannie  on  ma  wey  back.  It  wis  rale  kind  o' 
Mrs.  Thomson  to  tak'  the  wean  the  day,  fur 
she's  gettin'  a  steerin'  lassie,  an'  wudna  unner- 
staun'  that  Macgreegor  wis  lyin'  badly." 

Presently  Lizzie,  after  bending  for  a  minute 
over  the  bed  where  the  small  patient  lay,  pre- 
pared to  leave  the  house.  "He's  sleepin',  John," 
she  said,  with  a  pleased  smile. 

Left  to  himself,  John  smoked  his  pipe  before 
the  fire  and  meditated.  Two  minutes  passed, 
and  then — 


50  M/ee  Macgreegor 

"Paw!" 

"Are  ye  waukin',  Macgreegor?"  John 
sprang  up,  laid  down  his  pipe,  and  went  to  the 
bedside. 

"Paw,  whit  wey  am  I  no'  to  get  a  joojoob?" 

"Aw — weel,  ye  see,  it  wudna  be  guid  fur  yer 
inside." 

"But  ma  heid's  sair,  paw." 

"Yer  maw  said  I  wisna  to  let  ye  speak. 
AVhisht  noo,  ma  wee  man,  an'  try  an'  gang  to 
sleep." 

"I  canna  sleep.  Ma  heid's  sair.  I  want  a 
joojoob." 

John  stroked  his  son's  head  and  patted  his 
shoulder  tenderly.  "Puir  laddie,  wud  ye  like  a 
drink?" 

"I  want  a  joojoob,  paw." 

Somehow  the  man's  eye,  leaving  the  boy  for 
a  moment,  roved  round  the  kitchen.  The  wee 
drawer  in  the  dresser  had  been  left  partly  open. 

"I  canna  sleep.  I  want  a  joojoob,"  said 
Macgregor  again. 


,Wee   Macgreegor  ]$'C 

John  sighed.  He  gazed  longingly  at  the  wee 
drawer.  Then  he  pulled  himself  together  and 
looked  back  at  his  son.  "Ye  canna  get  a 
joojoob,  ma  wee  man,"  he  said,  sadly.  "Wull 
I  tell  ye  a  story?"  he  asked,  almost  despair- 
ingly. 

"Ay,"  replied  the  patient,  without  much  en- 
thusiasm.   "I  want  a " 

"Whit  '11 1  tell  ye?"  inquired  the  father,  has- 
tily.   "Aboot  a  draygon?" 

"Ay,"  languidly  assented  Macgregor.  "Tell's 
aboot  a  draygon,  and  gi'  's  a " 

"There  wis  yinst  a  draygon,"  began  John, 
without  delay,  "an'  it  leeved  in  a  den." 

"Hoo  big  wis  the  draygon,  paw?"  inquired 
Macgregor,  with  faint  interest. 

"It  wis  bigger  nor  the  biggest  beast  ye  seen 
in  the  Zoo.  An'  it  wis  a'  covered  wi'  sclates, 
an'  fire  an'  reek  cam'  oot  its  mooth,  an'  when 
folk  wis  gaun  by  its  den  it  played  puff !  puff !  at 
them,  an'  roastit  them  wi'  its  breith,  an'  then  it 
ett  them." 


52  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Whit  wey  did  the  folk  no'  scoot  watter 
at  it,  paw?" 

"Dod,  Macgreegor,  ye  may  weel  speir  that. 
But,  ye  see,  the  folk  dinna  scoot  watter ;  an*  at 
last  the  king  o'  the  place  begood  to  get  feart  he 
wud  ha'e  nae  folk  left  to  pey  him  taxes  an'  cry 
'hurray !'  when  he  gaed  ootbye,  an'  he  got  diz- 
zens  o'  bills  prentit  an'  pastit  up  a'  through  the 
toon  tellin'  the  folk  that  he  would  gi'e  hauf  his 
riches  an'  the  haun'  o'  his  bewtiful  dochter  til 
the  man  that  killt  the  draygon.  An'  then  a  lot 
o'  young  lauds  said  they  wud  kill  the  monster 
or  dee  in  the  attemp' ;  an'  they  dee'd,  an'  wis 
ett  up." 

"Whit  wey  did  they  no'  shoot  the  dray- 
gon, paw?"  asked  Macgregor,  with  some  ani- 
mation. 

"Aw,  ye  see,  guns  wisna  inventit." 

"Ay.    Whit  else,  paw?" 

"Keep  yersel'  ablow  the  claes,  my  mannie. 
Weel,  efter  hunners  o'  fine  braw  lauds  wis 
roastit  an'  ett  up,  there  wis  a  young  fairmer 


.Wee   Macgreegor  53 

cam'  furrit,  an'  said  he  wis  gaun  to  ha'e  a  try. 
An'  the  folk  lauched  at  him,  fur  the  lauds  that 
wis  ett  up  wis  a'  rale  sojers  that  kent  hoo  to 
fecht.  But  the  young  fairmer  didna  tak'  the 
huff.  He  jist  askit  fur  a  sword  an'  a  shield, 
an'  when  he  got  them  he  gaed  awa'  hame  to  his 
tea,  singin'  wi'  a  licht  hert.  Fur,  ye  see,  he 
had  made  a  plan.  An'  i'  the  mornin' 
he  got  thegither  a'  his  coos  an'  sheeps  an'  hens 
an'  jucks,  an'  chased  them  a'  doon  to  the  dray- 
gon's  den.  An'  the  draygon  wis  awfu'  hungry 
that  mornin',  fur  it  hadna  ett  ony  braw  lauds 
fur  near  a  week ;  an'  when  it  seen  the  coos  an' 
sheeps  an'  hens  an'  jucks  comin',  it  iickit  its 
lips,  an'  cam'  oot  its  den,  an'  played  puff !  puff ! 
an'  roastit  them  a',  an'  ett  them  up.  An'  when 
it  was  feenished  it  wis  jist  as  fou's  a  wulk,  an' 
it  warstled  intil  its  den  to  ha'e  a  bit  nap.  It 
hadna  been  sleepin'  lang  afore  it  wis  waukened 
wi'  the  young  fairmer  cryin' :  'Come  oot,  ye 
auld  draygon!  Come  oot  till  I  stab  ye!'  It 
never  let  bug  it  heard  him  speakin',  an'  in  a  wes 


[j>4  Wee   Macgreegor 

while  the  young  fairmer  keekit  intil  the  den  an* 
gi'ed  it  a  gey  sair  jag  i'  the  e'e  wi'  his  sword. 
An'  then » 


"Did  he  pit  oot  its  e'e,  paw?" 

"No'  exac'ly,  but  it  wis  a  gey  sair  jag.  An' 
then  it  begood  to  play  puff !  puff !  at  the  young 
fairmer,  but  it  wis  unco  short  o'  breith  efter 
eatin'  a'  the  coos  an'  sheeps  an'  hens  an'  jucks. 
An'  the  young  fairmer  kep'  awa'  the  fire  and 
reek  wi'  his  shield  an'  gi'ed  the  draygon  a  jag 
in  its  ither  e'e,  an'  cried,  'Come  oot,  ye  auld 
taurry-biler  till  I  ca'  the  heid  aff  ye !'  Wi'  that 
the  draygon,  no'  likin'  to  be  ca'ed  an  auld 
taurry-biler,  let  oot  a  roar,  an'  tried  fur  to  catch 
the  young  fairmer.  But  it  wis  jist  as  fou's  a 
wulk,  an'  hauf-blin'  furbye,  an'  as  shin  as  it  pit 
its  heid  oot  the  den  the  young  fairmer  stud  up 
on  his  taes  an'  brocht  doon  the  sword  wi'  a'  his 
micht,  an'  cut  off  the  draygon's  heid,  an'  the 
draygon  was  deid.    An'  then " 

"Wis  it  bleedin',  paw?"  asked  Macgregor, 
eagerly;. 


IWee  Macgreegor  55 

"Dod,  ay !  An'  then  the  young  fairmer  got 
hauf  the  king's  riches  an'  mairrit  his  dochter, 
an'  wis  happy  ever  efter.  An'  that's  a'  aboot 
the  draygon." 

"Tell 's  anither  story,  paw." 

John  told  two  more  stories,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  second  Macgregor  said: 

"I  likit  the  draygon  best.  I  want  to  be  cair- 
rit  noo." 

"Na,  na,  I  daurna  tak'  ye  oot  yer  bed." 

"Hap  me  weel,  an'  cairry  me,  paw,"  said  the 
boy. 

Eventually  his  father  gave  in,  rolled  him  in 
a  blanket,  and  began  to  pace  the  kitchen 
floor. 

"Mairch!"  commanded  Macgregor.  "An' 
whustle  tae,"  he  added ;  "whustle  like  a  baun' !" 

John  obligingly  began  to  whistle  "The  Girl 
I  Left  Behind  Me,"  and  marched  up  and  down 
the  kitchen  till  Macgregor  expressed  himself 
satisfied. 

"Sing  noo,  paw.'* 


56  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Is  yer  heid  no'  bad?" 

"No'  sae  bad  as  it  wis.    Sing,  paw !" 

"Vera  weel,"  said  John,  sitting  down  with 
his  burden  at  the  fireside. 

"I  want  to  see  ootbye,"  said  the  burden. 

So  John  went  over  to  the  window,  and  they 
looked  into  the  street  below,  where  the  lamps 
were  being  lit. 

"Leerie,  leerie,  licht  the  lamps, 
Lang  legs  an'  crookit  shanks/^ 

sang  John,  softly. 
Then: 

"I  had  a  little  powny, 
Its  name  wis  Dapple  Grey. 
I  lent  it  til  a  leddy 
To  ride  a  mile  away. 
She  whuppit  it,  she  lashed  it, 
She  ca'ed  it  through  the  mire— ►! 
I'll  never  lend  my  powny 
Fur  ony  teddy's  hire!" 

wSing  anither,"  said  Macgregor. 


Wee   Macgreegor  53 

"Wee  Jokey-Birdy,  tol-lol-lol, 
Laid  an  egg  on  the  winda-sole, 
The  winda-sole  begood  to  crack- 
Wee  Jokey-Birdy  roared  an'  grat." 

"Sing  anither,"  said  Macgregor. 

John  sang  another  half-dozen  rhymes,  and 
then  Macgregor  expressed  himself  willing  to 
leave  the  window  for  the  fireside.  "Sing  'A 
wee  bird  cam','  paw,"  he  murmured,  putting 
his  arm  a  little  further  round  his  father's  neck. 
It  was  probably  the  old  tune  that  appealed  to 
the  boy,  for  he  lay  very  still  while  John 
hummed  the  verses,  swaying  gently  from  side 
to  side,  and  gently  beating  time  with  one  hand 
on  his  son's  shoulder.  When  the  song  was 
ended  there  was  a  short  silence,  and  then  Mac- 
gregor sighed,  lazily,  "Sing  'Leerie'  again, 
paw." 

"Leerie,"  so  far  as  John  knew  it,  was  a  poem 
of  two  lines  set  to  a  tune  made  out  of  three 
notes,  but  he  sang  it  over  and  over  again,  softly; 
and  soothingly: 


58  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Leerie,  leerie,  licht  the  lamps, 
Lang  legs  an'  crookit  shanks," 

and,  having  repeated  it  perhaps  thirty  times,  he 
ceased,  for  Macgregor  had  fallen  sound  asleep. 

When  Lizzie,  with  wee  Jeannie  slumbering 
in  her  arms,  came  in  ten  minutes  later,  John 
was  sitting  alone  by  the  fireside  in  the  semi- 
darkness. 

"Is  he  sleepin'?"  she  asked,  anxiously. 

"Dod,  ay!"  said  John. 

"That's  guid.  He  wisna  wauken  when  I  wis 
oot?" 

"Aw,  jist  fur  a  wee  while.  I  didna  gi'e  him 
ony  joojoobs,  Lizzie,"  said  John,  with  a  quiet 
laugh,  pointing  to  the  wee  drawer  in  the 
dresser,  "but  I  wis  gey  sair  temptit." 


CHAPTER  V. 

"When  I'm  a  man,"  observed  Macgregor, 
leaning  against  the  knees  of  his  father,  who 
was  enjoying  an  evening  pipe  before  the 
kitchen  fire — "when  I'm  a  man,  I'm  gaun  to  be 
a  penter." 

"A  penter  ?"  echoed  John.  "D'  ye  hear  whit 
Macgreegor's  sayin',  Lizzie?"  he  inquired  of 
his  wife. 

Lizzie  moistened  her  finger  and  thumb, 
twirled  the  end  of  a  thread,  and  inserted  it  into 
the  eye  of  a  needle  ere  she  replied.  "Whit  kin' 
o'  a  penter  ?  Is  't  pictur's  ye' re  wantin'  to  pent, 
Macgreegor  ?" 

"Naw !"  said  her  son,  with  great  scorn.  "I'm 
gaun  to  ha'e  a  big  pot  o'  pent  an'  a  big  brush, 
an'  I'm  gaun  to  staun'  on  a  ladder,  an'  pent  wi' 
white  pent,  an'  rid  pent,  an'  bew  pent,  an' " 

69 


60  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Aw,  ye're  gaun  to  be  a  hoose-penter,  Mac- 
greegor," said  his  father. 

"Ay.  But  I'm  gaun  to  pent  shopes  tae.  An' 
I'm  gaun  to  ha'e  big  dauds  of  potty  fur 
stickin'  in  holes.  I  like  potty.  Here  a 
bit!"  And  Macgregor  produced  from  his 
trousers-pocket  a  lump  of  the  grayish,  plastic 
substance. 

"Feech!"  exclaimed  Lizzie,  in  disgust. 
"Whaur  got  ye  that?  Ye'll  jist  file  yer  claes 
wi'  the  nesty  stuff." 

"Wullie  Thomson  whiles  gets  potty  frae  his 
paw.    Wullie's  paw's  a  jiner." 

"I  thocht  you  an'  Wullie  had  cast  oot,"  said 
John.  "Ha'e  ye  been  makin'  freens  wi'  him 
again  ?" 

"Naw  But  I  seen  him  wi'  the  potty,  an'  I 
askit  him  for  a  daud." 

"It  wis  rale  nice  o'  the  laddie  to  gi'e  ye  a 
bit,"  remarked  Lizzie,  looking  up  from  her 
seam. 

"He  didna  gi'e  it,  maw.    I  tuk  it  frae  him." 


Web   Macgreegor  6i 

"Aw,  Macgreegor!"  said  Lizzie,  shaking 
her  head,  reproachfully. 

"Wullie's  bigger  nor  me,  maw." 

"Ay ;  but  he's  gey  wake  i'  the  legs." 

"I  hut  him,  an'  he  tummilt;  an'  I  jist  tute 
hauf  his  putty,"  said  Macgregor,  unconcern- 
edly. 

John  was  about  to  laugh,  when  he  caught  his 
wife's  eye. 

"An'  hoo  wud  ye  like,"  she  said,  addressing 
her  son,  "if  yer  paw  gi'ed  ye  potty,  an'  anither 
laddie  cam'  an' " 

"Paw  hasna  ony  potty." 

John  sniggered  behind  his  hand. 

"Weel,"  said  Lizzie,  casting  her  husband  a 
severe  look,  and  turning  again  to  her  son,  "hoo 
wud  ye  like  if  yer  paw  gi'ed  ye  taiblet,  an'  an- 
ither laddie  cam'  an'  tuk  hauf  o'  't  awa'  ?" 

"I  wud  gi'e  him  yin  on  the  neb  twicet !"  said 
Macgregor,  boldly,  going  over  to  the  window 
to  see  the  lamps  being  lighted. 

"But  if  he  hut  yet  an'  knockit  ye  doon?" 


62  ,Wee   Macgreegor 

"I  wudna  let  him.  Paw  hasna  gi'ed  me  taib- 
let  fur  a  lang  while,"  said  the  boy  over  his 
shoulder. 

"Macgreegor,"  said  his  mother,  solemnly, 
"I'm  thinkin'  ye're  gettin'  waur  every  day." 

"Aw,  the  wean's  fine,  Lizzie,"  interposed 
John,  softly. 

"Haud  yer  tongue,  John,"  retorted  Lizzie, 
quietly.  "The  wean's  no'  fine!  An'  instead  o' 
lauchin'  at  him  an'  makin'  a  pet  o'  him,  ye  ocht 
to  be  gi'ein'  him  a  guid  skelpin'." 

"I've  never  skelpit  a  wean  yet,  an' " 

"It's  easy  seen  ye've  never  skelpit  Mac- 
greegor, John.  Ye  jist  let  him  get  his  ain  wey, 
an'  he  disna  ken  when  he's  misbehavin'  hissel'. 
Weans  needs  to  be  checkit  whiles." 

"Aweel,  whit  dae  ye  want  me  to  dae,  Liz- 
zie?" 

"I  want  ye  to  punish  Macgreegor  for  hittin* 
that  puir  speldron  o'  a  laddie,  Wullie  Thomson, 
an'  stealin'  his  potty,"  said  Lizzie,  in  an  under- 
tone. 


Wee   Macgreegor  63 

Macgregor  came  back  from  the  window  witK 
the  putty  plastered  over  his  nose. 

"Paw,  see  ma  neb !"  he  said,  gayly,  unaware 
of  the  conversation  which  had  just  passed  con- 
cerning him. ' 

John  laughed  loudly.  "Dod,  but  ye've  a 
braw  neb  the  nicht,  Macgreegor !" 

"Tak'  it  aff  this  meenit!"  cried  Lizzie. 
"John,  ye  micht  think  shame  o'  yersel'  to  sit 
there  lauchin'  at  his  nesty  tricks!  D'  ye  no' 
mind  hoo  Mrs.  Cochrane's  man  tell  't  us  his 
neb  wis  aye  bew  wi'  him  pittin'  potty  on 't  when 
he  wis  a  wean?  .  .  .  Tak'  it  aff,  Macgreegor, 
or  I'll  sort  ye !" 

Macgregor,  but  little  abashed,  returned  to; 
the  window,  removed  the  offending  plaster, 
rolled  it  into  a  ball,  and  proceeded  to  squeeze  it 
through  his  fingers  with  undisguised  relish. 

"John,"  said  Lizzie,  "dae  whit  I  tell 't  ye." 

"I  canna,"  returned  John,  miserably.  "It 
micht  wauken  wee  Jeannie,"  he  added,  a  little 
hopefully. 


64  Wee   Macgreegor 

"I  didna  exac'ly  say  ye  wis  to — to  wheep 
the  laddie,"  said  his  wife,  "but  ye  maun  gi'e 
him  a  lesson  he'll  no'  furget.  I'm  no'  gaun  to 
ha'e  him  boastin'  an'  ill-usin'  ither  weans.  D' 
ye  see?" 

"But  whit  am  I  to  dae,  Lizzie?" 

"I'll  tell  ye,  John.  Ye'll  gang  ower  to  the 
dresser  an'  open  the  wee  drawer,  an'  ye'll  tak' 
oot  the  taiblet  ye  brocht  hame  fur  Macgreegor 
the  morn Are  ye  listenin'?" 

"Ay,  wumman." 

"An'  ye'll  tell  Macgreegor  ye  bocht  the  taib- 
let fur  his  Setterday  treat,  thinkin'  he  deservit 
it,  but  ye've  fun'  oot  he  disna  deserve  it,  an'  ye 
canna  gi'e  him  ony." 

"Aw,  Lizzie!" 

"An'  ye'll  tie  up  the  paircel,  an'  gar  him  tak' 
it  roon  the  corner  to  Wullie  Thomson,  an'  gi'e 
it  to  Wullie  Thomson,  an'  gi'e  him  back  his 
potty  furbye." 

"Aw,  Lizzie!" 

"An*  it  '11  be  a  lesson  to  Macgreegor  no'  to 


Wee  Macgreegor  65 

strike  laddies  waker  nor  hissel'.  Ye  wud  be 
gey  sair  pit  aboot,  John,  if  a  muckle  laddie  wis 
strikin'  Macgreegor." 

"Deed,  wud  I !  But — but  Macgreegor's  that 
fond  o'  taiblet " 

"Man,  man,  can  ye  no'  think  o'  whit's  guid 
fur  Macgreegor  ?  That's  the  wey  ye  spile  him, 
John.  Ye  wud  gi'e  him  the  cock  aff  the  steeple 
if  he  cried  fur  't !" 

"Maybe  ye're  richt,  Lizzie.  But  it's  a 
hard  thing  ye're  askin'.  Wud  it  no'  dae  to 
gi'e  him  hauf  the  taiblet  to  tak'  to  Wullie 
Thomson  ?" 

"Na,  na,"  said  Lizzie,  firmly.  "Here,  Mac- 
greegor!" she  called  to  her  son.  "Yer  paw 
wants  to  speak  to  ye.  .  .  .  Noo,  John !" 

With  a  huge  sigh,  John  rose,  went  to  the 
wee  drawer  in  the  dresser,  and  returned  with 
the  poke  of  "taiblet." 

"Paw,"  said  Macgregor,  absently,  "I  like 
taiblet  better  nor  potty." 

The  father  glaneed  appealingly  at  the  mother, 


66  Wee   Macgreegor 

but  she  was  adamant.  She  had  resumed! 
her  needle,  but  was  keeping  an  eye  on  the 
twain. 

"Macgreegor,"  said  John,  with  a  painful  ef- 
fort, "whit  wey  did  ye  strike  puir  Wullie 
Thomson  ?" 

"I  wantit  a  wee  daud  o'  potty." 

"Ay,"  murmured  John,  and  paused  for  a 
moment.    "Are  ye  sorry  ye  hut  him  ?" 

"Naw.    I  got  the  potty,  paw." 

"But  ye  sud  be  sorry,  Macgreegor." 

"Whit  wey,  paw?" 

"Wis  he  greetin'  ?" 

"Ay;  wis  he!" 

John  looked  across  at  Lizzie  for  aid,  but  she 
was  sewing  diligently. 

"Weel,"  he  said,  haltingly,  "yer  maw  an' 
me's  no'  vera  pleased  wi'  whit  ye  done  to 
Wullie  Thomson.  It  wisna  fair  to  strike  the 
hkes  o'  him." 

Macgregor's  visage  began  to  assume  an 
anxious  expression. 


Wee   Macgreegor  6? 

'Yer   maw,"    continued   John — "yer   maw 


says  ye  canna 

"John!"  murmured  Lizzie,  warningly. 

"Yer  maw  and  me  thinks  ye  canna  get  ony 
taiblet  the  morn." 

Macgregor's  under-lip  shot  out  quivering. 

"An' — ye've  got  to  gi'e  the  taiblet  to  Wullie 
Thomson,  an'  gi'e  him  back  his  potty,  furbye, 
an' — an' — oh,  Lizzie,  I  canna  say  ony  mair!" 

It  took  a  few  seconds  for  the  dire  truth  to 
dawn  upon  Macgregor,  but  when  it  did  a  low 
wail  issued  from  him,  and  the  tears  began  to 
flow. 

John  was  about  to  lift  him  onto  his  knee,  but 
Lizzie  interposed. 

"Pit  on  yer  bunnet,  Macgreegor,"  she  said, 
quietly,  "an'  tak'  the  taiblet  an'  potty  roon  to 
Wullie  Thomson.  It's  no'  dark  yet,"  she 
added,  glancing  out  of  the  window. 

"I'm  no'  wantin'  to  gi'e  the  taiblet  to  Wullie 
Thomson,"  sobbed  the  luckless  youngster. 

"Ye've  jist  to  dae  whit  ye're  tell  %"  re- 


6&  Wee   Macgreegor 

turned  his  mother,  calmly,  but  not  unkindly. 
"Ye're  no'  to  be  a  tawpy  noo,"  she  went  on, 
endeavoring  to  dry  his  eyes.  "Ye're  to  be  a 
man.  Whit  wud  Wullie  Thomson  think  if  he 
seen  ye  greetin'  ?    Eh,  Macgreegor  ?" 

Lizzie  had  struck  the  right  note.  The  sobs 
ceased,  though  the  breath  still  came  gustily. 
He  mopped  the  tears  with  his  cap,  and  replaced 
it  on  his  head. 

"Am  I  to  gi'e  him  a'  the  taiblet  an'  the  potty 
furbye?"  he  inquired,  plaintively. 

"Ay.  An'  ye're  to  say  ye're  sorry  fur  hurtin' 
him.  He's  no'  a  fine,  strong  laddie  like  yersel', 
Macgreegor — mind  that!  Yer  paw  an'  me 
wudna  like  if  ye  wis  wake  i'  the  legs  like  puir 
Wullie.  Noo,  j-ist  gang  roon  an'  gi'e  him  the 
taiblet  an'  his  potty,  an'  see  if  ye  canna  mak' 
freen's  wi'  him  again." 

"I'm  no'  wantin'  to  be  freen's,"  said  Mac- 
gregor,  rebelliously.  "I'm  no'  wantin'  to  gang." 

"Are  ye  feart  fur  Wullie  Thomson?"  asked 
Lizzie.    Another  clever  stroke! 


Wee   Macgreegor  69 

'Tmnofeart!    I'll  gang!" 

"Fine,  man !"  cried  John,  who  had  been  lis- 
tening in  gloomy  silence.  "I  kent  ye  wisna 
feart." 

Macgregor  began  to  feel  himself  rather  a 
hero.  In  dignified  silence  he  took  the  poke  of 
"taiblet,"  which  his  mother  had  tied  securely 
with  a  piece  of  tape  from  her  work-bag,  and 
departed  on  his  errand. 

John  looked  anxiously  to  Lizzie. 

She  sat  down  to  her  seam  again,  but  her 
fingers  were  less  deft  than  usual.  They  both! 
eyed  the  clock  frequently. 

"He  sudna  be  mair  nor  five  meenits,"  re- 
marked John.  "I  doot  we  wis  ower  hard  on 
the  wean,  wumman." 

Lizzie  made  no  response,  and  ten  minutes 
dragged  slowly  past. 

"Did  ye  expec'  he  wud  dae  't?"  asked  John, 
presently. 

"Och,  ay !"  she  answered,  with  affected  care- 
lessness. 


yo  Wee   Macgreegor 

"I  wisht  I  had  went  wi'  him,"  said  John. 

Lizzie  put  in  half  a  dozen  stitches  in  silence. 
Then  she  said :  "Ye  micht  gang  roon  an'  see 
whit's  keepin'  him,  John." 

"I'll  dae  that,  Lizzie.  .  .  .  Dae  ye  think  I 
micht  buy  him  a  bit  taiblet  when  I'm  ootbye  ?" 
He  asked  the  question  diffidently. 

His  wife  looked  up  from  her  seam.  "If  ye 
like,  John,"  she  said,  gently.  "I'm  thinkin'  the 
laddie's  had  his  lesson  noo.  He's  unco  prood 
fur  to  be  a  wean,  is  he  no'  ?" 

"Ay,"  said  John.  "There's  no'  mony  like 
Macgreegor."  He  nodded  to  his  wife,  and 
went  out. 

About  twenty  minutes  later  father  and  son 
re-entered  the  house  together.  Both  were 
beaming. 

"I  cudna  get  Macgreegor  awa'  frae  Wullie 
Thomson,  Lizzie,"  said  John,  smiling. 

"Weel,  weel,"  said  his  wife,  looking  pleased. 
"An'  did  ye  gi'e  Wullie  the  taiblet  an'  the  potty, 
Macgreegor  ?" 


Wee   Macgreegor  £1 

"Ay,  maw." 

Whereupon  his  mother  caught  and  cuddled 
him.     "Gi'e  him  a  bit  taiblet,  John,"  she  said. 

John  did  so  right  gladly  and  generously,  and 
Macgregor  crumped  away  to  his  heart's  con- 
tent. 

"An'  whit  kep'  ye  waitin'  at  Wullie's  a*  this 
time?"  inquired  Lizzie,  pleasantly. 

"He  gi'ed  me  a  big  daud  o'  potty,  maw," 
said  the  boy,  producing  a  lump  the  size  of  an 
orange. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Lizzie,  trying  not  to  look 
annoyed. 

"An'  him  an'  me  ett  the  taiblet,"  added  Mac- 
gregor. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"Hech  !  Macgreegor,  ye' re  gaun  ower  quick 
fur  me,"  gasped  Mr.  Purdie,  as  the  youngster 
whose  hand  he  held  hurried  along  the  Rothesay 
Esplanade  in  the  early  afternoon  sunshine. 

"I  cud  gang  quicker,  granpaw." 

"Deed,  ay!  Ye're  fine  an'  soople!  But  the 
boat  '11  no'  be  in  fur  mair  nor  hauf  an  'oor. 
Sae  we'll  jist  tak'  a  sate  fur  a  wee.  I'm  gettin' 
auld,  Macgreegor,  I'm  gettin'  auld." 

"Ay,  ye're  gey  auld,"  said  Macgregor,  agree- 
ably. 

"But  I'm  no'  that  auld,"  said  Mr.  Purdie, 
hastily. 

They  took  a  seat  facing  the  bay.  Macgregor 
proceeded  to  haul  in  a  tin  steamboat  which  he 
had  been  dragging  after  him  since  they  started 
on  their  walk,  while  his  grandfather  drew  from 

72 


Wee   Macgreegor  73 

its  case  a  well-seasoned  meerschaum,  removed 
the  newspaper  plug  and  "dottle,"  laid  the  latter 
on  the  top  of  a  fresh  fill,  and,  at  the  expense  of 
seven  or  eight  matches,  lit  up. 

"I  see  a  boat  comin',"  exclaimed  Macgregor 
ere  they  had  been  seated  for  five  minutes. 

"Whaur?  ...  Oh,  ay.  But  that's  no'  the 
richt  boat.  Wait  till  ye  see  a  boat  wi'  twa  yella 
funnels." 

"I  like  rid  funnels  better  nor  yella  yins.  Whit 
wey  is  maw  comin'  in  a  boat  wi'  yella  funnels  ?" 

"Yer  maw  disna  like  the  watter,  an'  the  boats 
wi'  yella  funnels  dinna  come  sae  faur  as  the 
boats  wi'  rid  funnels.  That's  jist  the  wey  o* 
it,  Macgreegor.    Ha'e !    Pit  thae  in  your  gab." 

"I  like  peppermint  lozengers,"  observed 
Macgregor,  drawing  in  his  breath  to  get  the 
full  effect.  "I  like  leemonade,  furbye,"  he 
added,  presently. 

"Are  ye  dry?" 

"Ay." 

"Aweel,  ye'll  maybe  get  a  botle  afore  we 


74  Wee   Macgreegor 

gang  to  the  pier.  Whit  ha'e  ye  been  daein  'to 
yer  steamboat?    It's  a'  bashed — see!" 

"A  laddie  trampit  on  it,"  said  Macgregor, 
holding  up  his  toy.  "But  the  string  gaed  roon 
his  leg  an'  coupit  him  an'  he  gaed  awa'  greetin'. 
Whit  wey  is  there  no'  a  baun'?"  he  inquired, 
looking  round  at  the  bandstand. 

"It's  no'  the  season  yet." 

"Whit  wey  is  't  no'  the  season?  I  like  a 
baun'  wi'  a  big  drum.  Wull  there  be  a  baun' 
the  morn,  granpaw  ?" 

"Na,  na.  No'  till  the  simmer.  If  ma  hoast's 
no'  better  I'll  maybe  bide  in  Rothesay  till  the 
simmer,  and  then  ye'll  come  back  an'  stey  wi' 
yer  granny  an'  me,  an'  gether  wulks,  an'  dook, 
an'  hear  the  baun'." 

"Is  yer  hoast  bad  the  noo  ?" 

"Ay ;  it's  gey  bad  at  nicht,  Macgreegor." 

"I  yinst  had  an  awfu'  sair  hoast,"  said  Mac- 
gregor, thoughtfully.  "I  got  code-ile.  If  you 
wis  takin'  code-ile  ye  micht  be  better  afore  the 
simmer,  granpaw." 


Wee    Macgreegor  75 

Mr.  Purdie  smiled.  "Wud  ye  like  ma  hoast 
to  be  better  afore  the  simmer,  Macgreegor  ?" 

"Ay.  I — I  wud  like  to  bide  in  Rothesay  tae. 
I  dinna  like  wulks,  but  I  like  pickin'  them  oot 
awfu'.  I  dinna  like  dookin',  but  I  like  paid- 
lin\" 

"I'm  thinkin'  I'll  try  the  code-ile,  Mac- 
greegor." 

"It's  rale  nesty  to  tak\  .  .  .  But  it  micht 
mak'  yer  hoast  better  afore  the  simmer.  .  .  . 
Rothesay's  a  nice  place;  is  't  no'?.  .  .  .  I'm 
gaun  ower  to  luk  at  the  watter."  Macgregor 
slipped  off  the  seat,  and,  dragging  his  steam- 
boat behind  him,  went  over  to  the  railings  of 
the  esplanade. 

"Ye' re  no'  to  sclim  up,"  cried  Mr.  Purdie, 
rising  in  alarm.  "If  ye  wis  fa'in'  in  there  ye 
wud  be  droondit." 

"There's  an  awfu'  lot  o'  watter  the  day," 
remarked  the  boy  as  his  grandfather  put  an 
arm  around  him. 

"Ay,  ye  see  the  tide's  inv 


j6  Wee    Macgreegor 

"Oh,  there  a  wee  fish!  D'  ye  no'  see  it, 
granpaw  ?    There  anither." 

"Ye've  better  sicht  nor  me.  Noo,  noo,  ye're 
no'  to  lean  ower  that  wey.  Ye  canna  soom, 
ye  ken.  An'  whit  wud  yer  maw  say  if  ye  fell 
in?" 

"She  wud  gi'e  me  ile — no'  the  code-ile,  but 
the  ither  ile.  It's  faur  waur.  I'm  gaun  fur  to 
sail  ma  boat  noo." 

"Ye  canna  sail  it  there." 

"Ay,  can  I !  See !"  Macgregor  lowered  his 
toy  with  the  string  till  it  touched  the  water  a 
yard  beneath  them.  After  several  partial 
swampings  it  was  induced  to  float  on  a  com- 
paratively even  keel.  "It's  soomin'!"  he  ex- 
claimed in  triumph  as  he  jerked  it  about.  And 
then  the  string  slipped  from  his  fingers.  He 
turned  to  his  grandfather  in  dire  dismay. 

"Puir  laddie,"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  looking 
about  for  help  in  the  shape  of  a  rowing  craft. 

"Ma  boat,  ma  boat!"  wailed  Macgregor, 
softly. 


$Vee   Macgreegor  77 

Old  Mr.  Purdie  went  down  on  his  knees, 
suppressing  a  groan  as  he  did  so,  laid  his  pipe 
on  the  ground,  and,  leaning  over  the  edge,  en- 
deavored to  secure  the  string  with  his  walking- 
stick.  For  several  minutes  he  wrought,  but  all 
in  vain,  and  then  Macgregor  cried  out  that  his 
boat  was  sinking.  It  was  too  true!  Damaged, 
doubtless,  by  many  a  stormy  passage  on  dry 
land,  and  also  by  being  tramped  upon,  the  luck- 
less vessel  had  gradually  filled,  and  now  it  was 
being  slowly  but  surely  submerged.  Mr.  Pur- 
die, in  great  distress,  endeavored  to  save  it  with 
his  stick  by  getting  a  hold  of  the  metal  rigging, 
but  his  sight  was  poor  and  his  hand  shaky,  and 
he  only  succeeded  in  giving  it  a  prod  amid- 
ships, which  precipitated  the  disaster.  Down, 
down,  in  ten  feet  of  clear  water  it  quietly  sank, 
while  its  owner  could  do  naught  but  watch  and 
wail,  "Ma  boat,  ma  boat !" 

Mr.  Purdie  rose,  rubbing  his  knees  and 
coughing.  "I'm  rale  vexed,  Macgreegor,"  he 
began. 


yS  [Wee  Macgreegor 

Crunch! 

"Ma  pipe,  ma  pipe!" 

Alas!  troubles  never  come  singly.  Mac* 
gregor  had  lost  his  beloved  boat;  Mr.  Purdie 
had  trod  upon  and  reduced  his  dear  old  pipe  to 
atoms. 

"Ma  boat,  ma  boat!" 

"Ma  pipe,  ma  pipe !" 

The  boy  gazed  despairingly  into  the  depths ; 
his  grandfather  stared  gloomily  at  the 
ground. 

"Dinna  greet,  laddie,"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  at 
last. 

"I'm  no'  greetin',"  returned  Macgregor,  rub- 
bing his  eyes  with  his  sleeve  and  sniffing  vio- 
lently. Then  he  perceived  the  trouble  which 
had  befallen  his  companion. 

"Whit  wey "  he  began,    and    stopped, 

stricken  dumb  by  the  distress  in  the  old  face. 

"Macgreegor,"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  taking  out 
a  shabby  purse,  "ye'll  maybe  get  yer  boat  when 
the  tide  gang  oot.    I'll  tell  the  man  ower  thon- 


Wee    Macgreegor  79 

der  to  keep  his  e'e  on  it.  An' — an'  ye're  no*  to 
greet." 

"I'm  no'  greetin',  granpaw." 

"Aweel,  I'm  rale  vexed  fur  ye.  An'  I  wudna 
like  ye  to  be  meetin'  yer  maw  wi'  sic  a  long 
face.  Ha'e !  There's  a  saxpence,  Macgreegor. 
Jist  rin  ower  to  the  shopes  an'  buy  onythin'  ye 
ha'e  a  fancy  fur,  an'  I'll  wait  fur  ye  here.  Noo, 
ye  dinna  need  to  gang  faur — jist  ower  the  road. 
An'  haste  ye  back,  fur  it's  near  time  fur  yer 
maw's  boat."  Having  thus  delivered  himself, 
Mr.  Purdie  heaved  a  big  sigh  and  looked  once 
more  at  the  wreckage  at  his  feet.  The  meer- 
schaum had  been  a  presentation,  and  he  had 
valued  it  exceedingly.  "It  wis  gettin'  auld  like 
hissel',  but  it  wisna  near  dune  yet,"  had  been 
the  substance  of  a  frequent  remark  of  his 
friends  to  him  during  the  last  five  or  six  years. 
And  now — now  it  was  "dune." 

"Are  ye  no'  gaun  to  the  shopes?"  he  asked 
his  grandson,  who  was  still  looking  at  the  six- 
pence.  ( 


8o  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Ay,  I'm  gaun,"  said  Macgregor.  "Tfienlc 
ye,  granpaw,"  he  added,  remembering  for  once 
his  mother's  good  instructions.  And,  his  small 
visage  wreathed  in  smiles  of  joyful  anticipa- 
tion, he  ran  off. 

Mr.  Purdie  saw  him  disappear  into  a  fancy- 
goods  emporium,  and  then  stooped  down  and 
gathered  the  fragments  of  his  pipe  into  a  large 
red  handkerchief,  which  he  carefully  deposited 
in  a  side-pocket  of  his  coat.  After  that  he 
marked  the  place  where  Macgregor's  toy  had 
sunk,  and  toddled  along  to  tell  the  nearest  boat- 
hirer  to  look  out  for  the  wreck  at  low  water. 
He  was  beginning  to  get  anxious  when  Mac- 
gregor, reappeared,  jubilant,  dragging  behind 
him  a  clattering  object. 

"Did  ye  buy  anither  boat?"  inquired  Mr. 
Purdie,  feeling  rather  disappointed,  for  the 
boat-hirer  had  assured  him  that  the  wreck 
could  easily  be  recovered. 

"It's  no'  a  boat,"  said  Macgregor,  smiling. 
"It's  a  beast." 


iWee  Macgreegor  8n 

"A  beast?" 

"Ay,  granpaw.    A  aggilator." 

"A  whit?" 

"Aggilator!  That's  whit  the  wife  in  the 
shope  said  it  wis.  Luk  at  its  taes!  It  can 
soom,  but  I'm  no'  gaun  to  pit  it  in  the  sea." 

Mr.  Purdie  examined  the  new  purchase. 
"Oh,  I  see,"  he  said,  at  last.  "It's  whit  they; 
ca'  a — a — a  crocidile,  Macgreegor." 

"Naw,  it's  no'  a  crocidile,  granpaw,  it's  a 
aggilator." 

"Weel,  weel,  it's  a  queer-like  thing  to  buy 
onywey;  but  if  ye're  pleased  wi'  it,  that's  a* 
aboot  it.  Noo,  it's  time  we  wis  gaun  to  meet 
yer  maw." 

Macgregor  gave  his  disengaged  hand  to  his 
grandfather,  and  they  proceeded  pierward.  Si- 
lently they  went  for  a  minute,  at  the  end  of 
which  Macgregor  remarked:  "I  didna  spend 
a'  my  sixpence  on  ma  aggilator,  granpaw." 

"Did  ye  no'  ?    Whit  did  ye  pey  fur  't  ?" 

"Fowerpence.  I  bocht  a  wheen  strippit  ba's." 


82  Wee  Macgreegor 

"Did  ye?" 

"Ay,  but  I  didna  spend  a'  the  tippence  on 
them." 

"Ye  wud  keep  a  penny  fur  yer  pooch,  like  a 
wice  laddie." 

"Naw.  I  bocht  ye  a  pipe,  granpaw,"  said 
Macgregor,  grinning.  He  released  his  hand 
and  dived  into  his  pocket. 

"Weel,  I  never!"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  receiving 
a  small  paper  parcel  from  his  grandson.  "To 
think  the  wean  mindit  me!"  he  murmured  to 
himself.  He  patted  Macgregor  on  the  head 
and  removed  the  paper. 

"It's  an  awfu'  nice  kin'  o'  pipe,  granpaw," 
said  Macgregor.  "Ye  pit  watter  intilt,  an'  then 
ye  blaw,  an'  it  whustles  like  a  birdie !" 

Mr.  Purdie  fairly  gaped  at  the  instrument 
of  torture  in  his  hand.  For  a  moment  he 
seemed  to  be  stunned.  Then  he  exclaimed,  "It 
bates  a'!"  and  went  into  a  fit  of  chuckling, 
which  was  only  stopped  by  the  advent  of  a 
"hoast" 


Wee   Macgreegor  83 

"Dae  ye  like  it,  granpaw  ?"  asked  Macgregor. 

"Fine,  laddie,  fine!"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  when 
he  had  recovered  his  breath.  "Dod,  ye' re 
paw'll  ha'e  a  guid  lauch  when  he  sees  ma  new 
pipe.  Ye'll  ha'e  to  learn  me  to  play  on  't, 
though." 

"Ay,  I'll  learn  ye,"  said  Macgregor,  gra- 
ciously, and  he  looked  much  gratified  at  the 
prospect. 

"Can  ye  see  the  boat  comin'  ?"  inquired  the 
old  man,  a  little  later. 

"Ay.    It's  comin'  frae  the  licht-hoose." 

"Weel,  it  '11  no'  be  in  fur  a  wee  yet.  We'll 
jist  tak'  a  sate  on  the  pier." 

"Ay,  granpaw.  .  .  „  I'm  gey  dry." 

"Tits!  I  near  forgot  yer  leemonade.  But 
we'll  shin  pit  that  richt,  Macgreegor." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

It  was  evident  that  the  Robinson  family,  as 
it  tramped  along  Argyll  street  that  Saturday 
afternoon,  was  bent  on  business  of  importance. 
Lizzie  and  wee  Jeannie  were  dressed  in  their 
best,  which  would  take  rather  long  to  describe ; 
Macgregor  had  on  his  Sunday  suit  and  a  new 
glengarry  bonnet;  and  John  wore  his  pot  hat 
a  little  to  one  side,  and  suffered  from  a  high, 
tight  collar,  the  points  of  which  nipped  his 
neck  every  time  he  moved  his  head. 

"Are  we  near  there,  paw?"  inquired  Mac- 
gregor, looking  up  to  his  father's  face. 

John  looked  down  at  his  son,  smothering  an 
exclamation  of  agony,  and  replied  in  the  affir- 
mative. 

"Whit  wey  dae  folk  get  likenesses  tooken?" 
asked  the  boy. 


Wee   Macgreegor  8$ 

"Dod,  ye  may  weel  speir,  Macgreegor !  It's 
yer  maw  wants  a  pictur'  fur  to  gi'e  to  yer  gran- 
paw  Purdie." 

"I'm  no'  wantin'  to  be  tooken,  paw.'* 

"Are  ye  no',  ma  man  ?  Deed  I'm  gey  sweirt 
masel'.    But  yer  maw  wants  the  pictur'." 

"Whit's  that  ye're  sayin'  to  Macgreegor, 
John?"  said  Lizzie. 

"Aw,"  replied  her  husband,  turning  to  her, 
and  wincing  as  the  collar  bit  him,  "Macgreegor 
an'  me  wis  thinkin'  we  wis  feart  fur  the  photy- 
grapher." 

"Oh,  ay,"  said  Lizzie,  with  a  good-humored 
smile.  "Aweel,  wee  Jeannie  an'  me  '11  no'  let 
him  hurt  ye — wull  we,  ma  doo?  But  whit'9 
wrang  wi'  ye,  John?  Ye're  makin'  maist 
frichtsome  faces!"  ^ 

"It's  the  collar,  wumman.  Ye  wud  ha'e  me 
to  pit  it  on." 

"It  luks  rale  nice.    Is  't  a  wee  thing  ticht?" 

"Dod,  it's  like  to  nip  the  neck  aff  me !" 

"Weel,  never  heed,  John.    It'll  come  oot  fine1 


86  .Wee   Macgreegor 

in  the  photygraph.  Mercy  me!  whaur's  Mac- 
greegor ?" 

They  retraced  their  steps  anxiously,  and  dis- 
covered their  son  standing  on  the  curb,  gazing 
longingly  at  the  barrow  of  a  vender  of  hokey- 
pokey  or  some  similarly  elusive  dainty. 

"Macgreegor,  tak'  yer  paw's  haun',  an'  dinna 
let  me  catch  ye  stravaygin'  awa'  again,  or  ye'll 
get  nae  carvies  to  yer  tea,"  said  Lizzie,  glad 
enough  to  have  found  the  youngster  so 
speedily. 

"John,"  she  added,  "fur  ony  sake,  keep  a 
grup  o'  the  wean." 

"Come  on,  Macgreegor,"  said  John,  holding 
out  his  hand.  "We're  jist  comin'  to  the  photy- 
grapher's." 

Presently  they  began  to  climb  a  long,  narrow 
stair. 

"Gi'e  wee  Jeannie  to  me,  Lizzie,"  said  John. 

"Ay;  ye'll  manage  her  better  nor  me.  I'm 
no'  wantin'  to  be  photygraphed  wi'  a  rid  face 
an*  pechin,"  said  Lizzie,  handing  over  her  bur- 


Wee   Macgreegor  2>y 

den,  on  receipt  of  which  John  suffered  fresh 
torments  from  his  collar. 

"Maw,  wull  I  get  ma  likeness  tooken  wi'  ma 
greengarry  bunnet  on?"  asked  Macgregor,  as 
they  toiled  upward. 

"Ye'll  see  whit  the  man  says,"  returned  his 
mother. 

"I'm  no'  wantin'  him  to  tak'  it  aff." 

"Weel,  weel,  ye'll  see  whit  he  says." 

"Wull  ye  tak'  aff  yer  ain  bunnet,  maw?" 

"That's  a  daft-like  thing  to  be  askin'." 

"Whit  wey " 

"Whisht,  whisht !"  said  Lizzie,  who  was  evi- 
dently anxious  to  save  her  breath. 

At  last  they  reached  the  top  flat,  and  were 
accommodated  with  seats  in  the  reception- 
room.  Lizzie  took  wee  Jeannie  on  her 
knee,  and  proceeded  to  make  the  child  as 
neat  as  a  new  pin,  conversing  with  her  the 
while. 

"Paw,"  inquired  Macgregor,  staring  at  a 
number  of  photographs  on  the  wall,  "whit  wey 


88  [Wee   Macgreegor 

dae  folk  mak'  faces  when  they  get  their  like- 
nesses tooken?" 

"Thae's  jist  real  faces,"  said  John,  laughing 
and  putting  his  hand  to  his  throat. 

"Can  I  get  makin'  a  face  when  I'm  gettin* 
ma  likeness  tooken?" 

"Yer  maw  wudna  like  that." 

"Whit  wey,  paw?" 

"Och,  jist — jist  because  she  wudna.  See, 
Macgreegor,  yer  maw's  wantin'  ye." 

Lizzie  beckoned  the  boy  to  her.  "Mac- 
greegor, pu'  up  yer  stockin',  an'  dinna  screw  yer 
face  like  that.  .  .  .  Oh,  laddie,  whit  wey  did 
ye  gang  an'  mak'  yer  heid  sae  toosie?  Staun' 
till  I  get  yer  hair  to  lie."  She  fished  a  comb 
from  her  pocket  and  used  it  till  she  had  re- 
duced the  unruly  locks  to  order.  "Noo,  sit 
doon  on  that  chair,  an'  dinna  stir  a  fit  till  the 
man's  ready  fur  us.    John !" 

"Weel,  Lizzie?" 

"Come  ower  here  till  I  pu'  doon  yer  jayket. 
It  gars  ye  look  fair  humphy-backit." 


Wee   Macgreegor  89 

"Hoots,  wumman,  I'm  no'  gaun  to  get  ma 
back  tooken,"  said  John,  coming  over,  never- 
theless. 

"Ye  never  ken  hoo  ye'll  get  tooken,"  said 
Lizzie,  sagely.  "I  wis  lukin'  at  some  o'  the 
pictur's  here,  an'  some  o'  them's  no'  jist  whit  I 
wud  ca'  inchantin'." 

"Ye  better  no'  let  wee  Jeannie  see  them,  or 
she'll  be  gettin'  frichtit.  Eh,  wee  Jeannie,  whit 
dae  ye  say,  ma  duckie?"  he  said,  laughing  and 
chucking  his  daughter  under  the  chin. 

"Paw !"  exclaimed  wee  Jeannie.  "Paw-aw- 
aw!" 

"Fine,  lassie,  fine!"  cried  her  father.  He 
was  in  great  form  now,  his  collar-stud  having 
given  way  a  minute  previously. 

"Noo,  yer  jayket's  lyin'  better,  John,"  said 
his  wife.  "But  yer  tie — oh,  man,  yer  tie's  awa* 
up  the  back  o'  yer  heid !" 

"I  canna  help  it,  wumman.  If  I  pit  on  yin 
o'  thae  masher  collars,  ma  tie  slips  ower  it,  as 
shair'sdaithl" 


90  Wee   Macgreegor 

"But  whit  wey  dae  ye  no'  use  the  tabs?" 

"Och,  I'm  fur  nane  o'  yer  tabs !  Never  heed, 
Lizzie.    I'll  pu'  it  doon  masel'." 

"Tits!"  exclaimed  Lizzie.  "I  near  had  it 
that  time!    Noo — noo  I've  got  it.    There!" 

At  the  word  of  triumph  the  tie  slipped  into 
its  place,  but  the  collar  flew  open. 

"Whit's  ado  wi'  ye,  John?"  she  cried,  a  little 
crossly.    "Whit  wey  did  you  unbutton  it  ?" 

"The  stud's  broke!" 

"The  stud's  broke  ?  Oh,  John,  an'  you  gaun 
to  ha'e  yer  photygraph  tooken!" 

"Ach,  it's  a'  richt,  dearie.  I'll  jist  button 
my  jayket,  an'  that  '11  haud  it  thegither.  See, 
that's  fine !" 

"Oh,  John,"  she  began,  but  just  then  a  voice 
requested  the  family  to  step  into  the  adjoining 
room. 

"Mind,  John,  it's  to  be  a  caybinet  growp," 
whispered  Lizzie,  as  she  took  a  last  survey  of 
wee  Jeannie  and  Macgregor. 

John  explained  his  wishes  to  the  photog- 


Wee    Macgreegor  91 

rapher,  and  presently  the  group  was  arranged 
— Lizzie  with  wee  Jeannie  on  her  knee,  Mac- 
gregor  standing  beside  her  with  his  toes  turned 
well  out,  and  John  behind  with  one  hand  rest- 
ing affectionately  on  her  shoulder.  Then  the 
photographer  dived  under  the  black  cloth. 

"Whit's  he  daein',  paw?"  inquired  Mac- 
gregor,  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"Whisht!"  murmured  Lizzie. 

"He's  spyin',"  said  John,  softly. 

"Whit  wey  is  he  spyin',  paw?" 

"Jist  to  see  hoo  we're  a'  behavin',"  returned 
his  father,  jocularly.    "Eh,  Lizzie?" 

"Be  quate,  John !"  whispered  Lizzie,  severe- 
ly. She  was  sitting  very  stiff  and  dignified. 
Wee  Jeannie  began  to  show  signs  of  restless- 
ness, but  ere  long  the  photographer  reappeared. 
He  suggested  that  the  little  boy  should  remove 
his  hat,  and  that  the  gentleman  should  open 
his  jacket. 

"I'm  dune  fur  noo,"  muttered  John,  with  a 
wry  smile. 


92  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Macgreegor,  tak'  aff  yer  bunnet,"  said  Liz- 
zie, miserably,  fearful  of  what  would  shortly 
happen  behind  her. 

"I'm  no'  wantin'  to  tak'  aff  ma  bunnet, 
maw,"  said  Macgregor. 

"Dae  whit  ye' re  tell  't.  Ye  can  haud  it  in 
yer  haun'." 

"Yes,  just  so.  Hold  your  bonnet  in  your 
hand,  my  little  man,"  said  the  photographer, 
pleasantly. 

Macgregor  obeyed  sulkily. 

"Kindly  undo  all  the  buttons — all  the  but- 
tons, please,"  said  the  photographer  to  John, 
with  great  politeness,  and  turned  to  the 
camera. 

With  a  feeble  snigger  John  undid  the  last 
but  one.  Lizzie's  head  had  been  sinking  lower 
and  lower.  She  felt  she  was  about  to  be  af- 
fronted. 

"Maw,"  said  Macgregor,  suddenly,  "I — I've 
toosied  ma  heid.  Wull  I  pit  on  my  greengarryj 
bunnet  again?" 


.Wee   Macgreegor  93 

"Lizzie  looked  up  quickly,  and  whipped  some- 
thing from  near  her  waist.  "John,"  she  said, 
"gang  to  the  ither  room,  an'  see  if  I  left  me 
cairn  on  the  table."  Her  voice  sank  to  a  whis- 
per. "An' — an' — here's  twa  preens."  She 
turned  to  the  photographer.  "Ye'll  excuse  me 
keepin'  ye  waitin'  a  meenit,  sir?"  she  said  to 
him.  "This  laddie's  a  rale  wee  tease,"  she 
added,  softly. 

The  photographer  smiled  good-humoredly, 
and  immediately  she  discovered  that  the  comb 
was  in  her  pocket,  after  all.  She  tidied  her 
son's  hair  carefully,  and  said :  "I  think  I  wud 
like  him  tooken  in  his  bunnet,  if  ye've  nae  ob- 
jections." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  replied  the  man,  agreeably. 
"His  expression  was  certainly  happier  with  it 
than  without." 

John  entered  grinning,  his  jacket  thrown 
open.  "I  cudna  fin'  yer  cairn  onywhere,  Liz- 
zie." 

"Och,  I  had  it  in  ma  pocket,  efter  a'.    Noo, 


94  Wee   Macgreegor 

we're  ready,  if  you  please,  sir,"  she  said  to  the 
photographer,  who,  without  delay,  set  about  his 
business. 

He  waited  till  the  smiles  had  died  down 
somewhat,  when  he  instructed  them  where  and 
how  to  look,  and  made  an  exposure,  which 
Macgregor  spoiled  by  scratching  his  nose  at 
the  critical  moment. 

"I  cudna  help  it,  paw,  ma  neb  wis  that  kit- 
ly,"  said  the  boy. 

"Weel,  ye  maun  jist  thole  the  next  time, 
Macgreegor.  Noo  he's  gaun  to  tak'  anither 
yin." 

"Whit's  that  wee  thing  he  scoots  wi'  ?" 

"Whisht!" 

"Steady,  please,"  requested  the  photog- 
rapher. 

Wee  Jeannie  began  to  wiggle  on  her  mother's 
knee. 

"Oh,  see!  oh,  see!"  said  Lizzie,  pointing 
to  the  camera.  "Oh,  see,  a  boney  wee 
winda !" 


Wee   Macgreegor  95 

"Paw,  whit's  inside  the  boax?"  asked  Mac- 
gregor. 

"If  you  please,"  said  the  photographer. 
"Now  when  I  say  three — One — two — th " 

"Am  I  tooken,  paw?" 

"No'  yet,  Macgreegor,  no'  yet.  Ye  near 
spilet  anither  photygraph.  Keep  quate, 
noo. 

"Noona,  noona,"  said  Lizzie,  dandling  wee 
Jeannie,  who  was  exhibiting  fractious  symp- 
toms. "Wee  Jeannie's  gaun  to  ha'e  her  like- 
ness tooken  i'  the  boney  wee  winda!  (My! 
John,  I  wisht  I  had  brocht  her  auld  jumpin'- 
jake.)    Oh,  see!  oh,  see!" 

A  lull  at  last  occurred,  and  the  photographer 
took  advantage  of  it;  and  after  another  period 
of  unrest,  he  secured  a  third  negative,  which 
he  assured  Lizzie  would  prove  highly  success- 
ful. John  had  expected  to  take  the  photo- 
graphs away  with  him,  but  his  wife  informed 
him  in  a  whisper  that  he  mustn't  think  of  such 
a  thing.    "Caybinet  growps"  took  time.    Mat- 


g6  Wee   Macgreegor 

ters  having  been  settled,  the  family  departed 
from  the  studio. 

"Maw,  wull  my  greengarry  bunnet  ha'e  a  rid 
toorie  in  the  likeness?"  inquired  Macgregor. 

"It  '11  no'  be  rid,  onywey,  dearie." 

"Whit  wey,  maw  ?"  He  was  obviously  deep- 
ly disappointed. 

"Speir  at  yer  paw,  ma  mannie." 

Macgregor  repeated  the  question. 

"Aweel,  if  it  disna  come  oot  rid,"  said  John, 
"I'll  ha'e  it  pentit  rid  fur  ye.  Dod,  I  wull,  fur 
ye're  jist  a  jool !    Is  he  no',  Lizzie?" 

"Oh,  wee  toosie  heid!"  cried  his  mother, 
with  a  laugh  and  a  sigh. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"Rin  to  the  door,  Macgreegor,  an'  see  wha' 
it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Robinson,  who  was  engaged 
in  feeding  wee  Jeannie  with  tit-bits  from  the 
Saturday  dinner-table. 

Stuffing  half  a  potato  into  his  mouth,  the  boy 
slipped  from  his  chair  and  obeyed  orders. 

"It's  maybe  Mrs.  M'Ostrich,"  remarked 
Lizzie  to  her  husband. 

"Whit  wud  she  be  wantin'  ?"  inquired  John, 
who  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  looking  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  life,  and  idly  whittling  a 
match  into  a  toothpick. 

"I  wis  expec'in'  her  to  bring  back  the  things 
she  got  the  len'  o'  yesterday  " 

"Whit  things?" 

"Did  I  no'  tell  ye?  Aweel,  Mrs.  M'Ostrich 
wis  ha'ein'  comp'ny  last  nicht,  an'  she  speirt  if 


98  ,Wee   Macgreegor 

I  wud  len'  her  the  twa  bew  vazes,  an' 
the  mauve  tidy  wi'  the  yella  paurrit  on  it, 
an'  the  cheeny  muik-joog,  an'  a  wheen  ither 
things." 

"Dod,  she's  no'  Hate!" 

"Aw,  puir  wumman,  she  hasna  muckle  in  her 
hoose,  an'  she's  that  fond  o'  comp'ny." 

"Deed  she  micht  ha'e  askit  us  yins  til  her 
pairty !"  said  John,  laughing  good-naturedly. 

"Ye  ken  fine  ye  wudna  gang  til  her  pairty 
if  she  askit  ye  a  thoosan'  times.  But  whit's 
keepin'  Macgreegor.  „  .  .  Macgreegor,  whit's 
keepin'  ye?" 

"I'm  comin',  maw,"  replied  a  choked  voice. 

"Weel,  haste  ye!  .  .  .  It's  no'  been  Mrs. 
M'Ostrich,  efter  a'.  Deed,  I  hope  she  hasna 
chippit  the  bew  vazes.  .  .  .  Here,  Macgreegor, 
wha  wis  at  the  door?" 

"It  wis  postie,  maw." 

"Whitkep'ye?" 

"He's  gied  me  a  cheuch  jean,  an*  I've  ett  it, 
an'  here's  a  letter  fur  paw." 


Wee   Macgreegor  99 

"Tits,  laddie !  Ye're  ower  chief  wi'  the  post- 
man.   Whit's  the  big  letter  aboot,  John  ?" 

"Whit  dae  ye  think,  Lizzie  ?"  asked  her  hus- 
band, grinning. 

i     "I  ken  whit  it  is,"  put  in  Macgregor,  "fur  I 
keekit  in.    It's  ma  likeness !" 

"John !  is  't  the  photygraphs  ?" 

"Ay,  is  it !" 

"Aw,  John*  quick! — let  me  see!  My!  I 
thocht  they  wis  never  comin'.  Mind  ye  dinna 
file  them,  John,  an'  dinna  let  Macgreegor  tich 
them  till  he's  washed  his  hauns.  .  .  .  Oh,  wee 
Jeannie,  ye're  gaun  tae  see  yer  boney  like- 
ness!— eh,  ma  doo?  .  .  .  Macgreegor,  mak'  a 
clean  plate,  and  then  wash  yer  hauns.  .  .  . 
John,  John,  yer  fingers  is  a'  thoombs !  Can  ye 
no'  open  it?" 

"Ye're  in  an  awfu'  hurry,  Lizzie,"  said  John, 
teasingly,  pretending  to  fumble  with  the  packet. 
"Maybe  ye'll  shin  be  wishin'  I  hadna  opened 
it." 

"Ach,  awa'  wi'  ye !   I  ken  the  pictur's  is  first- 


ioo  ,Wee   Macgreegor 

class.  Come  on,  John.  Nane  o'  yer  pala- 
vers 1" 

So  John  opened  the  packet,  which  contained 
six  very  highly  polished  cabinets,  and,  after  a 
moment's  inspection,  burst  into  a  great  guffaw. 

"Man,  ye're  jist  a  big  wean !"  said  his  wife, 
a  little  impatiently.    "Let  me  see  yin  o'  them." 

"There  ye  are,  wumman.  Dod,  it's  rale 
comic !" 

"I  want  yin,  paw,"  said  Macgregor. 

"An'  ye'll  get  yin,  ma  mannie.  Ha'e !  Whit 
dae  ye  think  o' that?" 

Macgregor  studied  the  photograph  for  half 
a  minute,  and  then  looked  up  at  his  father  with 
an  expression  of  disappointment. 

"Whit  wey  is  ma  toorie  no'  rid,  paw?"  he 
demanded. 

John  stopped  smiling,  and  looked  uncom- 
fortable. 

"Ye  said  it  wud  be  rid,"  said  the  boy. 

"Ay,  I  mind  I  said  I  wud  tell  the  man  to 
pent  it  rid,  but — but  I  clean  furgot.      It's 


lWee   Macgreegor  II O I 

a  braw  likeness,  thought  is  't  no',  Mac- 
greegor ?" 

"I  wantit  ma  toorie  to  be  rid,  an'  it's  black," 
said  Macgregor,  coldly. 

"I'm  rale  vexed  I  furgot  to  tell  the  man.  .  . 
Lizzie,  did  ye  hear  whit  Macgreegor  wis  say- 
ing?" 

"Eh  ?"  said  Lizzie,  who  had  been  delightedly 
occupied  in  examining  the  details  of  the  family 
group  and  pointing  them  out  to  wee  Jeannie. 

"Macgreegor's  no'  pleased  at  his  bunnet  no' 
ha'ein'  a  rid  toorie,"  said  John.  "Ye  see,  I  fur- 
got  to  tell  the  man  to  pent  it  rid." 

"It's  jist  as  weel,  John,  fur  it  wud  be  a  daft- 
like  thing  to  ha'e  a  rid  toorie  in  a  photygraph." 

"But  ma  bunnet's  toorie's  rid,  maw,"  said 
her  son. 

"Ay,  dearie.  But  rid  an'  bew  an'  yella  an' 
ither  colors  canna  be  tooken  in  a  likeness." 

"Whit  wey  can  they  no'  ?" 

"I  canna  tell  ye  that.  An'  it  wudna  be  vera 
nice  to  pit  pent  on  a  photygraph." 


102  .Wee   Macgreegor 

"Whit  wey,  maw  ?" 

"Aw,  it  jist  wudna  be  nice.  .  .  .  Dis  wee 
Jeannie  ken  her  paw?  Dis  she?"  Lizzie  cried, 
returning  to  the  photograph  and  her  daughter. 
"Ay,  fine  she  kens  her  paw !" 

"It's  mair  nor  her  paw  dis,"  observed  John, 
a  trifle  dejectedly.  "I'm  lukin'  as  if  I  wis 
a  toff  gaun  to  be  chokit,  wi'  that  masher 
collar," 

"Ye're  lukin'  fine,  John,"  said  his  wife.  "An' 
I'm  rale  gled  I  got  ye  to  pit  on  the  collar.  Ye're 
a  wee  bit  solemn ;  but  I  dinna  care  to  see  a  man 
ower  jocose-like  in  a  photygraph;  it  gars  me 
think  o'  the  likeness  in  the  papers  o'  folk  that 
ha'e  been  cured  o'  indisgeestion.  .  .  .  Ah!  ye 
wee  cutty!" — this  to  wee  Jeannie — "ye're  no' 
to  pit  the  boney  pictur'  in  the  gravy !" 

"I  dinna  think  it's  a  boney  pictur',"  observed 
Macgregor,  who  was  nursing  his  chagrin. 
"It's  a  nesty  auld  pictur' !" 

"Haud  yer  tongue,  Macgreegor,"  said  his 
mother.  . 


Wee   Macgreegor  103 

"It's  an  ugly  auld  pictur' !  I  dinna  like  it  a 
wee  tate !    I  wudna " 

"Sh-h-h!  Ye're  no'  to  talk  that  silly  wey. 
Yer  granpaw  Purdie  '11  be  weel  pleased  wi'  it — 
wull  he  no',  John  ?" 

"I  hope  he  wull,  Lizzie.  It's  no'  bad,  takin' 
it  a'  thegither,  but " 

"I  tell  't  Granpaw  Purdie  it  wud  ha'e  a  rid 
toorie,  an' — an'  it  hasna,"  said  Macgregor. 

"Och,  whit's  aboot  a  rid  toorie?"  said  his 
mother,  laughing. 

"But  I'm  rale  vexed  aboot  it,"  said  his  father, 
gravely.  "I  promised  Macgreegor  the  toorie 
wud  be  pentit  rid,  an' " 

"Weel,  Macgreegor  canna  ha'e  it  rid  noo,  an* 
that's  jist  a'  aboot  it." 

"An'  I  tell 't  Wullie  Thomson  it  wud  be  rid, 
and  Wullie  Thomson  tell  't  a'  the  ither  lad- 
dies," said  the  youngster,  with  a  quaver  in  his 
voice. 

"Ye  sudna  ha'e  tell  't  onybody  it  wud  be  rid 
till  ye  wis  shair  o'  %"  remarked  Lizzie. 


104  Wee   Macgreegor 

"But  I  wis  as  shair  's  onythin'.  Paw  said  it 
wud  be  rid  I" 

The  unintentional  reproach  rendered  John 
dumb  with  misery. 

"Ye  best  gang  oot  an*  play  fur  a  wee,*'  said 
Lizzie. 

"I'm  no'  wantin'  to  gang  oot,"  replied  her 
son,  sulkily. 

"Ye'll  jist  dae  whit  I  bid  ye,  Macgreegor. 
Wee  Jeannie's  gaun  to  ha'e  a  nap,  for  she  wis 
restless  last  nicht,  an'  she  wudna  sleep  i'  the 
forenune.  Sae  aff  ye  gang,  ma  mannie,  an' 
ye'll  get  carvies  to  yer  tea.  But  dinna  gang 
faur,  mind." 

"Maybe  Macgreegor's  no'  wantin'  to  gang 
ootbye,"  said  John,  with  an  effort. 

"That  wud  be  somethin'  new.  Awa'  wi' 
ye,  Macgreegor,  an'  play  wi'  Wullie  Thom- 
son. 

Very  unwillingly  Macgregor  departed. 

"John,  ye  sudna  interfere  when  I'm  tellin' 
Macgreegor  to  dae  this  or  that,"  said  Lizzie, 


,Wee   Macgreegor  105 

softly,  as  she  patted  her  daughter,  who  was 
nearly  asleep. 

"Weel,  I  daursay  I'm  wrang,  dearie.  But 
I'm  rale  vexed  fur  Macgreegor.  Did  ye  no'  see 
hoo  sweirt  he  wis  to  gang  ootbye?" 

"He's  whiles  gey  dour,  ye  ken." 

"Ay,  but  it  wisna  a'  dourness.  The  puir 
laddie  wis  feart  o'  bein'  whit  ye  wud  ca'  af- 
frontit." 

"Affrontit?" 

"Ay,  jist  that.  Fur  whit  wis  he  to  say  if 
Wullie  Thomson  an'  the  ither  laddies  askit  him 
aboot  his  likeness?  Ye  see,  Lizzie,  I've  nae 
doot  he's  been  boastin'  a  wee  aboot  gettin'  a 
pictur'  o'  hissel'  wi'  a  rid  toorie — an'  noo " 

"Hoots,  John !  It's  no  sic  a  serious  maitter 
as  a'  that." 

"It's  gey  serious  to  the  wean.  Macgreegor's 
unco  prood,  an'  it  '11  be  a  sair  job  fur  him  to  tell 
the  laddies  aboot  his  pictur'  no'  ha'ein'  a  rid 
toorie,  efter  a'." 

"He  sudna  ha'e  boastit."' 


106  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Aw,  Lizzie!"    • 

"He  needna  tell  the  laddies." 

"But  that's  jist  whit  he'll  dae,  fur  they'll  no' 
furget  to  ask  him,  an'  he'll  no'  tell  a  lee." 

"I  ken  that,  John." 

"Weel,  then,  the  laddies  '11  lauch  at  him  an' 
mak'  a  mock  o'  him  fur  guid  kens  hoo  lang 
aboot  his  rid  toorie." 

"I'll  sort  them  if  they  mak'  a  mock  o'  ma 
laddie,"  exclaimed  Lizzie,  indignantly. 

"Na,  na.  Ye  canna  dae  that,  wumman.  The 
Wean's  jist  got  to  suffer,  an'  it's  a'  ma  fau't — a' 
ma  fau't." 

Lizzie  rose  without  replying,  and,  having 
deposited  wee  Jeannie  in  bed,  set  about  clear- 
ing the  dinner-table.  When  she  had  finished 
washing-up  she  turned  to  John,  who  was  smok- 
ing "up  the  lum"  in  a  melancholy  fashion. 

"I  wis  wonderin'  if  ye  cudna  get  a  rid  toorie 
pentit  yet,"  she  said. 

"Dae  ye  mean  that,  Lizzie?"  he  exclaimed, 
Starting  up. 


Wee   Macgreegor  107 

"Ay.  It  wud  please  the  wean,  an'  yersel' 
furbye.    An'  cud  ye  no'  jist  dae  't  yersel'?" 

"But  I've  nae  pent.  An'  it  wud  be  gey  diffi- 
cult to  pent  on  that  blossy  stuff  unless  ye  kent 
the  wey,"  said  John,  thoughtfully  regarding 
the  photograph. 

"It  jist  wants  a  week  tick  o'  rid,  dis  it  no'?" 

"Ay,  jist  a  wee  tick,  an' — dod,  wumman,  I 
ken  whit  '11  dae!"  cried  John,  in  sudden 
ecstasy. 

"Whisht,  whisht !  Mind  wee  Jeannie.  Weel, 
whit  is  it?" 

"Whit  d'ye  think?" 

"I  cudna  guess." 

"Jist  a  wee  tick  o'  a  penny  stamp,"  replied 
the  husband,  in  a  triumphant  whisper.  * 

"Noo,  if  that's  no'  clever!"  murmured  Liz- 
zie, admiringly.  "An'  I've  a  stamp  in  ma  purse, 
fur  I  was  gaun  to  write  to  Mrs.  Purdie  to  tell 
her  we  cudna  gang  to  wur  tea  on  Wensday. 
My!  John,  ye're  a  faur-seein'  man,  and  Mac- 
greegor '11  be  that  pleased." 


108  Wee   Macgreegor 

A  minute  later  the  twain  were  seated  at  the 
table  with  a  photograph  between  them. 

"I'm  thinkin'  ye're  a  braw  wumman,  Lizzie," 
said  John. 

"Ye're  jist  a  blether,"  said  Lizzie,  without 
looking  the  least  offended. 

Presently  she  handed  over  her  scissors,  and 
John  cut  "a  wee  tick"  from  the  stamp  which 
she  had  already  given  him. 

"Canny,  noo,  John,"  she  muttered.  "It  wud 
be  a  peety  to  spile  the  photygraph." 

"I'll  manage  it,"  he  returned.  .  .  .  Dod,  but 
I've  swallowed  it!" 

"Tak'  anither  wee  tick,  John." 

Another  "wee  tick"  was  taken  from  the 
stamp  and  successfully  affixed  to  the  tiny  "too- 
rie"  of  Macgregor's  bonnet  as  it  appeared 
in  the  photograph.  Then  John  sat  up,  re- 
garding his  handiwork  with  no  small  satis- 
faction. 

"Eh,  Lizzie?" 

"Fine,  John  {" 


Wee   Macgreegor  [109 

"The  wean  'ill  be  pleased  ?" 

"Deed,  ay." 

The  twain  beamed  upon  each  other. 

When  Macgregor  came  in  he  found  them 
Still  beaming,  and  he  beamed  also. 

"Weel,  ma  mannie,"  said  John,  gayly,  "wis 
ye  playin'  wi'  Wullie  Thomson?" 

"Ay,  paw.  I  wis  playin'  wi'  Wullie  an'  the 
ither  la4dies  at  tig,  an'  I  never  wis  het !" 

"Ye  didna  say  onythin'  aboot  rid  toories,  did 
ye?"  inquired  his  father,  with  a  surreptitious 
wink  at  Lizzie,  who  had  the  photograph  under 
her  apron. 

"Ay.  I  tell  't  them  I  wisna  gaun  to  ha'e  a 
rid  toorie  in  ma  likeness,  because  a  black  yin 
wis  finer." 

"An'  whit  did  they  say  to  that?"  asked 
Lizzie. 

"They  a'  said  it  wis  finer  excep'  Tarn  Jamie- 
son,  an'  I  hut  him  on  the  neb,  an'  then  he  said 
black  wis  finer  nor  rid." 

"But,  Macgreegor,"  said  John,  motioning  to 


no  IWee   Macgreegor 

Lizzie  to  keep  silence,  "wud  ye  no'  like  a  pictur' 
wi'  a  rid  toorie  on  yer  bunnet?" 

"Nae  fears !"  returned  Macgregor,  with  sub- 
lime contempt.  "I'm  no'  fur  rid  toories  ony 
mair,  paw." 

John  and  Lizzie  looked  helplessly  at  each 
other* 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"Och,  wumman,  I'm  no'  heedin'  aboot  Mrs. 
M 'Ostrich  an'  her  pairty,"  said  John,  as  he 
folded  a  strip  of  newspaper  with  which  to  light 
his  pipe. 

"Aw,  but  ye'll  gang,  John  ?"  said  Lizzie,  per- 
suasively. 

"Are  ye  wantin'  to  gang  yersel'  ?" 

"Weel,  ye  see,  it's  no'  as  if  I  wis  oot  every 
ither  nicht,  an' " 

"Dod,  then,  we'll  jist  gang.  I  doot  I  whiles 
furget  ye're  in  the  hoose  a'  day ;  an'  ye've  had  a 
gey  sair  time  wi'  wee  Jeannie  fur  twa-three 
weeks.    Ay,  we'll  jist  gang." 

Lizzie  looked  pleased.    "When  Mrs.  M'Ost- 

rich  wis  in  this  mornin'  to  get  the  len'  o'  ma 

bew  vazes,  an'  the  mauve  tidy  wi'  the  yella 

paurrit  on  it,  an'  a  wheen  ither  things,  she  says 
111 


1 1  a  Wee.   Macgreegor 

to  me,  says  she :  'Mrs.  Robinson,  ye're  weel  aff 
wi'  yer  man' ;  and  then  she  says " 

"Hoots!"  interrupted  John,  "I'm  thinkin' 
Mrs.  M'Ostrich  is  an  auld  blether." 

"Auld  blethers  whiles  says  a  true  word,"  ob- 
served his  wife.  Then,  fearing  perhaps  she 
was  expressing  too  much  in  the  way  of  senti- 
ment, she  became  suddenly  practical.  "I've  a 
braw  sark  ready  fur  ye.    I  done  it  up  the  day." 

"Am  I  to  pit  on  ma  guid  claes  ?" 

"Oh  ay,  John." 

"But  no'  a  staun'-up  collar  ?" 

"Aw,  John!  An'  I've  a  beauty  jist  waitin' 
fur  ye.  Ye  luk  that  smairt  in  a  staun'-up 
collar.  I  wis  thinkin'  o'  that  when  I  wis 
ernin'  it,  an'  if  ye  had  jist  seen  hoo 
carefu' " 

"Ach,  Lizzie,  ye  get  ower  me  every  time! 
If  ye  wis  tellin'  me  to  gang  to  Mrs.  M'Ostrich's 
pairty  wi'  yin  o'  wee  Jeannie's  rid  flannen 
goonies  on,  I  wud  jist  ha'e  to  dae  't !" 

"Havers !"  cried  his  wife,  laughing  the  laugh 


Wee   Macgreegor  113 

of  a  woman  who  gains  her  point.  "We'd  best 
be  gettin'  ready  shin." 

"But  whit  aboot  the  weans?"  asked  John. 

"Macgreegor's  comin'  wi'  you  an'  me.  Mrs. 
M'Ostrich  said  we  wis  to  bring  him,  fur  I  tell 
't  her  I  wis  sweirt  to  leave  him  in  the  hoose." 

"That's  guid!"  said  her  husband,  with  a 
smile  of  satisfaction.  "Macgreegor  likes  pairties." 

"I  hope  he'll  no'  affront  us,  John." 

"Aw,  the  wean's  fine,  Lizzie.  An'  whit  aboot 
wee  Jeannie?" 

"She'll  sleep  soon,  an'  Mrs.  M'Faurlan's 
comin'  to  sit  in  the  hoose  till  we  get  back." 

"I  see  ye've  arranged  it  a',"  he  said,  good- 
humoredly.  "Whit  wud  ye  ha'e  dune  if  I  had 
said  I  wudna  gang?" 

"Ah,  but  I  kent  ye  wud  gang.  ...  Ye 
micht  rin  doon  the  stair  the  noo  an'  get  a  haud 
o'  Macgreegor.  He's  ootbye  playin'  wi'  Wullie 
Thomson.  They've  baith  got  sookers,  an'  they 
like  fine  when  the  streets  is  kin'  o'  wat.  I  dinna 
think  sookers  is  vera  nice  things  to  play  wi'." 


1 14  Wee   Macgreegor 

"I  yinst  had  yin  masel',  an*  I  near  got  the 
nick  for  pu'in'  the  stanes  oot  the  streets,  .  .  . 
Weel,  I'll  awa'  an'  see  efter  Macgreegor." 

Later  in  the  evening  the  trio  set  out  for  the 
abode  of  Mrs.  M'Ostrich,  who,  as  Lizzie  was 
wont  to  remark,  "hadna  muckle  in  her  hoose, 
ptiir  thing,  but  wis  that  fond  o'  comp'ny."  Mrs. 
M'Ostrich,  however,  never  had  the  least  hesi- 
tation in  borrowing  from  her  friends  any  deco- 
rative article  she  did  not  possess,  so  that  her 
little  parlor  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  her  par- 
ties was  decorated  in  quite  gorgeous  style.  Her 
chief  trouble  was  her  husband,  who,  being  a 
baker,  retired  to  the  kitchen  bed  early  in  the 
evening,  and  snored  with  such  vigor  and  en- 
thusiasm that  the  company  in  the  other  room 
heard  him  distinctly.  Mrs.  M'Ostrich  had  tried 
many  devices,  including  that  of  a  clothes-pin 
jammed  on  the  snorer's  proboscis,  but  all  with- 
out avail.  In  the  case  of  the  clothes-pin,  Mr. 
M'Ostrich,  who  had  meekly  submitted  to  its 
being  fixed,  had  shortly  after  suffered  from  a 


Wee  Macgreegor  115 

sort  of  nightmare,  and,  half  awake,  had  startled 
a  party  in  the  parlor  by  frantic  beatings  on  the 
wall  and  weird  yellings  to  the  effect  that  some 
one  was  trying  to  suffocate  him.  After  that  he 
was  allowed  to  snore  in  peace,  and  Mrs.  M'Ost- 
rich  had  to  explain  to  any  new  visitors  the 
meaning  of  the  disturbance.  This  she  did  to 
John  and  Lizzie  immediately  on  their  arrival. 

They  were  the  last  of  the  guests  to  appear, 
the  six  others  being  already  seated  round  the 
parlor,  doing  a  little  talking  and  a  good  deal  of 
staring  at  the  decorations,  the  number  and 
glory  of  which  seemed  to  have  quite  paralyzed 
a  little  woman  who  sat  in  the  window. 

"Maw,"  whispered  Macgregor,  who  had 
been  accommodated  with  a  hassock  at  his 
mother's  feet,  "thon  bew  vazes  is  awfu'  like  oor 
yins." 

"Whisht!"  said  Lizzie.  .  .  .  "As  ye  wis 
sayin',  Mrs.  M'Ostrich " 

"Maw,  there  a  tidy  wi'  a  yella  paurrit  on 
thon " 


n6  Wee   Macgreegor 

"Whisht,  Macgreegor!"  said  Lizzie,  giving 
her  son  a  severe  look. 

"He's  a  shairp  laddie,"  observed  Mrs. 
M'Ostrich,  who  did  not  really  mind,  so  long  as 
her  guests  recognized  only  their  own  particular 
contributions  to  the  grandeur  of  her  surround- 
ings. 

"Awa*  an'  sit  aside  yer  paw,  Macgreegor," 
said  Lizzie.  .  .  .  "John,  see  if  you  can  keep 
Macgreegor  quate." 

The  boy  dumped  his  hassock  over  the  feet  of 
two  of  the  company,  and  squatted  beside  his 
father.  He  felt  rather  out  of  his  element 
among  so  many  adults,  most  of  them  elderly, 
and  he  was  disturbed  at  seeing  his  father  look- 
ing so  stiff  and  solemn. 

A  dreary  half-hour  went  by,  at  the  end  of 
which  he  could  keep  silence  no  longer. 

"Paw,"  he  said  to  his  parent,  who  was  lis- 
tening conscientiously  to  the  long  story  of  a 
Mrs.  Bowley  concerning  her  husband's  bald- 
ness-~-"paw,  whit's  that  noise?" 


Wee   Macoreesor  !ii/ 

"Aw,  never  heed,  ma  mannie,"  replied  John, 
aware  that  the  noise  proceeded  from  the  slum- 
bering Mr.  M'Ostrich.    "It's  jist  a  noise." 

"It's  awfu'  like  a  big  grumphy,  paw." 

"Sh !    Ye're  no'  to  speak  the  noo." 

"If  I  had  a  big  grumphy " 

"Whit's  the  laddie  sayin'?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Bowley,  smiling  so  kindly  that  Macgregor  ac- 
cepted her  as  a  friend  there  and  then. 

"It's  a  grumphy,"  he  explained,  confiden- 
tially.   "Dae  ye  no'  hear  it?" 

Mrs.  Bowley  laughed,  and  patted  his  head. 
"Ye  mauna  speak  aboot  grumphies  the  noo, 
dearie,"  she  whispered.  "Here's  a  bit  sweetie 
fur  ye." 

Macgregor  put  the  dainty  in  his  mouth,  and 
drew  the  hassock  a  trifle  nearer  to  Mrs.  Bow- 
ley. "Ye're  awfu'  kind,"  he  said,  in  a  hoarse 
undertone,  and  he  and  the  good  lady  enter- 
tained each  other  for  quite  a  long  time,  much  to 
John's  relief. 

About  half-past  nine  the  company  drew  as 


n8  Wee   Macgreegor 

near  to  the  oval  table  as  their  numbers  per- 
mitted, and  did  justice  to  the  light  refresh- 
ments which  the  hostess  had  provided.  Mac- 
gregor,  ignoring  his  mother's  glances,  and  evi- 
dently forgetting  there  was  such  a  fluid  in  the 
world  as  castor-oil,  punished  the  pastry  with 
the  utmost  severity,  and  consumed  two  whole 
bottles  of  lemonade. 

"It's  an  awfu'  nice  pairty,  paw,"  he  whis- 
pered, when  the  chairs  had  been  put  back  to 
the  walls.    "Are  we  gaun  hame  noo?" 

Before  John  could  reply,  Mrs.  M'Ostrich  re- 
quested the  attention  of  the  company  to  a  song 
by  Mr.  Pumpherston.  All  eyes  were  turned  on 
a  large,  middle-aged  man  in  one  corner  of  the 
room,  who  wiped  his  brow  repeatedly,  and  ap- 
peared very  uneasy. 

"Come  awa',  Mr.  Pumpherston,"  said  Mrs. 
M'Ostrich,  encouragingly.  "Jist  ony  sang  ye 
like.  Ye  needna  be  feart.  We're  nane  o'  us 
musical  crickets." 

"Ay,  come  awa',  Mr.  Pumpherston,"  mur- 


Wee  Macgreegor  119 

mured  several  of  the  guests,  clapping  their 
hands. 

"Is  he  a  comic,  paw?"  inquired  Macgregor. 

"Whisht!"  said  Lizzie,  sighting  danger 
ahead,  and  giving  John,  beside  whom  she  was 
now  sitting,  a  nudge  with  her  elbow. 

Mr.  Pumpherston  shuffled  his  chair  an  inch 
forward,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  ceiling,  and 
hummed,  "Do,  me,  so,  do,  soh,  me,  do." 

"Ay,  he's  a  comic!"  said  Macgregor,  in  a 
delighted  whisper. 

Some  one  sniggered,  and  John  gently  but 
firmly  put  his  hand  over  his  son's  mouth. 

"He's  jist  lukin'  fur  the  key,  as  it  were," 
observed  Mrs.  Pumpherston,  the  little  lady  who 
had  been  overcome  by  Mrs.  M'Ostrich's  parlor 
decorations.  "He's  whiles  gey  slow  at  catchin* 
the  richt  key,  but  he'll  be  gettin'  it  in  a  wee," 
she  added,  as  her  husband  continued  his  "Do, 
me,  so,  do,  soh,  me,  do,"  to  the  intense  enjoy- 
ment of  Macgregor,  who  quaked  on  the  has- 
sock in  enforced  silence. 


120  [Wee   Macgreegor 

At  last  Mr.  Pumpherston  started  "Ye  Banks 
and  Braes,"  but  when  half  through  the  first 
verse  was  compelled  to  stop  and  make  search 
for  a  lower  key. 

"It's  aye  the  way  wi'  him,"  explained  his 
wife.  "But  when  yinst  he  gets  the  richt  key  he 
sings  it  weel  eneugh,  if  he  disna  furget  the 
words.  .  .  .  Ha'e  ye  got  the  richt  key  noo, 
Geordie?" 

"I  wis  near  it;  but  ye've  pit  me  aff  it.  But 
I'll  get  it  yet,"  quoth  Mr.  Pumpherston,  deter- 
minedly. And  he  did  get  it  eventually,  and 
regaled  the  company  in  a  voice  surprisingly 
small  for  such  a  large  man. 

Macgregor  was  much  disappointed,  if  not 
indignant,  at  being  deceived,  as  he  believed,  by 
Mr.  Pumpherston;  but  presently,  feeling 
drowsy,  he  climbed  into  his  father's  arms  and 
dropped  into  a  peaceful  little  doze.  So  he  rested 
while  several  guests  contributed  songs,  not  all, 
by  the  way,  such  efforts  as  that  of  Mr.  Pum- 
pherston. 


Wee   Macgreegor  H2ii 

"Lizzie  and  John  were  congratulating  them- 
selves upon  their  son's  good  behavior  during 
the  evening,  and  Mrs.  Bowley  and  another  lady 
had  just  finished  telling  them  what  a  "braw 
laddie"  they  were  so  fortunate  as  to  possess, 
when  Macgregor  awoke,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and 
stared  about  him. 

"Puir  mannie,  he's  jist  deid  wi'  sleep,"  re- 
marked kindly  Mrs.  Bowley. 

"He  is  that,"  assented  the  other  lady.  "Are 
ye  wearit,  dearie  ?" 

"There's  no'  mony  weans  wud  behave  their- 
sel's  like  him,"  observed  Mrs.  M'Ostrich. 

Mrs.  Pumpherston  said  nothing,  but  smiled 
sourly.  Probably  the  youngster's  opinion  that 
her  husband  was  a  "comic"  still  rankled. 

"It's  time  ye  wis  hame,  Macgreegor,"  said 
Lizzie,  rising. 

But  Macgregor  heard  none  of  the  foregoing 
observations.  With  a  dreamy  look  in  his  eyes, 
he  was  listening  intently.  "I  hear  it,  I  hear  it," 
he  muttered. 


122  Wee   Macgreegor 

"He's  no'  hauf  wauken  yet,"  Mrs.  M'Os- 
trich. 

"Whit  dae  ye  hear,  daurlin'  ?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Bowley. 

Macgregor  rubbed  his  eyes  again.  "I  hear 
it!  .  .  .  It's  in  the  hoose!  .  .  .  It's  ben  the 
hoose !  .  .  .  Paw,  tak'  me  ben  till  I  see  the  big 
grumphy !" 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  dead  silence.  But 
laughter  was  inevitable.  Poor  Mrs.  M'Ostrich, 
her  face  crimson,  had  to  join  in,  but,  as  Mrs. 
Bowley  remarked  to  a  friend  next  day,  she  was 
evidently  "sair  pit  oot." 

As  for  Lizzie,  after  a  hasty  apology  and 
good-bye,  she  hurried  John  from  the  house,  and 
never  opened  her  mouth  till  they  were  in  their 
own  kitchen.  On  the  departure  of  Mrs.  M'Far- 
lane,  who  had  taken  good  care  of  wee  Jeannie, 
Macgregor,  three  parts  asleep,  was  put  to  bed 
with  scant  ceremony,  after  which  Lizzie  col- 
lapsed into  a  chair  and  looked  long  at  her  hus- 
band. 


Wee  Macgreegor  .123 

"Weel?"  she  said,  at  last. 

"Weel,  Lizzie  ?"  he  returned,  trying  to  smile. 
"Ye've  had  yer  nicht  oot." 

"Ay.    An' it's  the  last!" 

"Toots,  havers!" 

"John,  I've  been  affrontit  afore,  but  never 
like  the  nicht.    Macgreegor " 

"Aw,  the  wean  didna  mean  ony  hairm.  He 
sud  ha'e  been  tell  't  aboot  Mrs.  M'Ostrich's 
man." 

"Oh,  ye've  aye  an  excuse  fur  Macgreegor. 
I'm — I'm  naebody !" 

"Lizzie,  wumman!"  He  got  up  and  went 
beside  her.    "Ye're  jist  a  boney  wee  blether." 

"Ah,  I'm  no'  to  be  cajoled  that  wey,  John." 

John  said  nothing ;  but  he  tried  several  other 
ways,  and  did  succeed  in  "cajoling"  her  at  last. 
She  heaved  a  great  sigh  and  smiled  back  at  him. 

"But,  dearie,  whit  are  we  to  dae  wi'  the 
wean  ?"  she  asked. 

"Guid  kens,"  said  John. 

And  suddenly  they  both  fell  a-laughing. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"I  dinna  think  I'll  gang  oot  the  day,  John," 
said  Lizzie.  "Wee  Jeannie's  that  girny.  I 
doot  I'll  ha'e  to  gi'e  her  ile,  puir  doo.  Ye  sudna 
ha'e  gi'ed  her  thon  bit  kipper  last  nicht." 

"Och,  Lizzie,  it  was  jist  a  tate  the  size  o'  yer 
nail." 

"Weel,  ye  ken  fine  she's  ower  wee  fur  kip- 
pers, John.  An'  ye  ken  I  wudna  gi'e  her  that 
kin'  o'  meat  masel'.  I'm  shair  ye  micht  ha'e 
mair  sense  nor  to  gi'e  her  everythin'  she  cries 
fur.    But  it  canna  be  helpit  noo." 

"I'm  rale  vexed,  wumman,"  said  John.  "I 
think  I'll  bide  in  the  hoose.  I'm  no'  heedin' 
aboot  gaun  oot  the  day." 

"Na,  na,  John.  Ye've  got  to  tak'  Mae- 
greegor  to  the  baun',  fur  ye  promised  the 
wean." 

124 


Wee   Macgreegor  125 

"Tak*  Macgreegor  yersel',  'Lizzie,  an'  I'll 
mind  wee  Jeannie." 

"Toots,  havers !  Ye  see  I'm  no'  jist  shair  if 
it  wis  the  kipper  that  done  it,  sae  ye  needna  be 
blamin'  yersel'  aboot  wee  Jeannie." 

"Dae  ye  think  it  wisna  the  kipper?"  said 
John,  eagerly. 

"Maybe  it  wisna.  Onywey,  I  ken  whit  to 
dae;  sae  aff  ye  gang  wi'  Macgreegor.  .  .  . 
Macgreegor,  ha'e  ye  washed  yer  face?" 

"Ay,  maw." 

"Weel,  bring  ower  the  brush  till  I  pit  yer 
hair  stracht.  .  .  .  Staun'  quate  noo!  Tits, 
laddie !  hoo  can  I  mak'  a  shed  when  ye' re  wag- 
glin'  yer  heid?  .  .  .  There,  noo!  .  .  .  Let  me 
see  yer  haun's.    Did  ye  wash  them?" 

"Ay,  maw." 

"Awa'  an'  wash  them  again.  An'  tie  yer 
lace.  .  .  .  Here,  John,  keep  yer  e'e  on  wee 
Jeannie  till  I  get  Macgreegor's  new  hat."  Liz- 
zie dived  under  the  bed,  opened  a  box,  and 
brought  out  a  parcel. 


126  Wee   MacgreegoU 

"Whit  kin*  o'  bunnet's  that?"  inquired  her 
husband. 

"Wait  an'  ye'll  see,"  returned  Lizzie,  smiling 
as  she  undid  the  paper.  "The  man  said  it  wis 
an  Alpine  hat,  an'  vera  genteel.  Macgreegor's 
needin'  a  new  hat  His  glengarry's  gettin'  kin' 
o'  shabby  fur  the  Sawbath,  sae  he'll  wear  it 
every  day  an'  ha'e  this  yin  fur  his  guid  yin. 
See?  There's  the  hat,  John.  It  '11  be  a  fine 
surprise  fur  Macgreegor.  .  .  .  Here,  Mac- 
greegor,  come  an'  see  yer  new  hat." 

"It's  a  queer  kin'  o'  hat  fur  a  wean,"  re- 
marked John.  "It's  liker  a  man's.  Dod,  it's 
jist  like  auld  Mackinky's — him  that  used  to 
write  til  the  newspapers  efter  he  gaed  daft.  A 
Macalpine  hat,  did  ye  say?  Macgreegor,  let's 
see  ye  in  yer  Macalpine  hat !" 

But  Macgregor,  who  had  been  gazing  dumb- 
ly at  the  headgear  for  fully  half  a  minute,  sud- 
denly exclaimed,  "I'll  no'  wear  that  thing." 

"Noo  ye've  done  it !"  said  Lizzie,  in  a  sharp 
undertone  to  her  husband.   "Ye've  pit  the  wean 


Wee   Macgreegor  127 

aff  it  wi*  yer  stupid  talk.  .  .  .  Macgreegor,  ma 
mannie,"  she  said  to  the  boy,  "yer  paw  wis  jist 
jokin'.  See,  pit  on  yer  braw  new  hat,  an'  then 
ye'll  gang  to  the  baun\" 

"I'll  no'  wear  it,"  said  her  son,  retreating  a 
step.    "I  want  ma  greengarry  bunnet." 

"Ah,  but  this  yin's  faur  nicer  nor  yer  glen- 
garry. ...  Is  't  no'  ?"  she  demanded  of  John, 
giving  him  a  warning  glance. 

"Aw,  it's  a  vera  nice  hat,"  he  replied,  eva- 
sively. Then,  feeling  that  he  was  failing  in  his 
duty,  he  gently  recommended  his  son  to  sub- 
mit. "Come  awa',  Macgreegor,  an'  dae  whit 
yer  maw  bids  ye." 

"I'll  no'  wear  it,"  said  Macgregor,  stolidly. 

"Ye'll  no',  wull  ye  no'?"  exclaimed  Lizzie. 
"If  ye'll  no',  ye'll  jist !"  And,  taking  the  boy 
by  the  arm,  she  gently  but  firmly  placed  the  hat 
upon  his  head. 

At  this  indignity  tears  sprang  to  his  eyes; 
but  he  cuffed  them  away,  and  stood  before  his 
parents  an  exceedingly  sulky  little  figure. 


128  Wee   Macgreegor 

"It's  the  brawest  hat  he  ever  had,"  said  Liz- 
zie, regarding  her  purchase  with  intense  satis- 
faction.   "Is 't  no',  John?" 

"Ay;  it's  a  vera  braw  hat,"  replied  John, 
with  feeble  enthusiasm.  "Dae  ye  think  it  fits 
him,  though?"  he  inquired. 

"Fits  him  ?  Deed,  ay !  It's  like  as  if  his  heid 
had  been  made  fur  't.  .  .  .  Is  it  no'  rale  com- 
fortable, Macgreegor  ?" 

"I  dinna  like  it,"  replied  the  boy.  "I  like  ma 
greengarry." 

"Och,  ye'll  shin  get  to  like  it,  dearie.  Ye 
micht  gang  to  see  the  king  wi'  a  hat  like  that 
on  yer  heid.  .  .  .  Noo,  awa'  wi'  yer  paw  to  the 
baun',  an'  be  a  guid  laddie,  an'  ye'll  get  some- 
thin'  nice  to  yer  tea." 

"Come  on,  Macgreegor,"  said  John,  holding 
out  his  hand.  "You  an'  me  '11  ha'e  a  hurl  on 
the  caur,  an'  maybe  ye'll  fin'  oot  whit  I've  got 
in  ma  pooch.'' 

Lizzie  nodded  pleasantly  as  they  departed, 
and  John  looked  back  and  smiled,  while  Mac- 


Wee   Macgreegor  129 

gregor,  though  subdued,  was  apparently  be- 
coming reconciled  to  his  novel  headgear.  Dur- 
ing the  car  journey  the  twain  were  perhaps 
quieter  than  usual,  but  by  the  time  they  reached 
the  park,  where  the  band  was  playing,  John 
had  ceased  casting  covert  glances  at  his  boy's 
head,  and  Macgregor,  with  a  portion  of  "taib- 
let"  in  each  cheek,  was  himself  again. 

Macgregor  greatly  enjoyed  the  loud  and 
lively  passages  in  the  music,  but  he  was  in- 
clined to  be  rather  impatient  while  the  con- 
ductor waved  his  baton  slowly  and  the  instru- 
ments played  softly  or  were  partly  silent. 

"Paw,  whit  wey  is  thon  man  no'  blawin'  his 
trumpet  ?"  he  inquired,  during  a  lull  among  the 
brasses. 

"I  cudna  say,  Macgreegor." 

"If  I  had  a  trumpet  I  wud  aye  blaw  it.  I 
wud  blaw  it  hard,  tae !" 

John  was  about  to  assure  his  son  that  he 
fully  believed  him,  when  he  heard  some  one  be- 
hind say : 


130  Wee  Macgreegor 

"Jist  luk  at  that,  Mrs.  Forgie!  Is  that  no' 
an  awfu'  daft-like  hat  to  pit  on  a  laddie?" 

"It  is  that,  Mrs.  Bawr.  I  wudna  let  a  laddie 
o'  mine's  gang  oot  in  a  thing  like  that  fur  a' 
the  gold  o'  Crusoes." 

John's  ears  tingled,  and  he  nearly  bit  the  end 
off  his  pipe.  "Macgreegor,  I  think  we'll  gang 
roon  and  see  the  drummer,"  he  said. 

"Naw,  I  want  to  see  thon  man  blaw  his 
trumpet,"  said  Macgregor,  who,  fortunately, 
had  not  heard  his  critics. 

"Some  folk,"  observed  Mrs.  Bawr,  "is  gey 
fond  o'  tryin'  to  be  gentry." 

"Ye're  richt  there,"  assented  Mrs.  Forgie, 
with  a  sniff.  "I'm  aye  sorry  fur  weans  that 
gets  drest  up  like  waux- works,  jist  fur  to  please 
their  sully  faythers  an'  mithers." 

"Macgreegor,"  said  John,  "I'm  no'  gaun  to 
wait  fur  the  man  to  blaw  his  trumpet.  I  doot 
he  jist  cairries  it  fur  show.  Come  awa'  wi' 
me."  And,  much  to  his  surprise,  the  young- 
ster was  dragged  away. 


Wee  Macgreegor  131 

From  that  moment  John's  pleasure  was  at 
an  end.  Every  smile  he  observed,  every  laugh 
he  heard,  seemed  to  have  a  personal  applica- 
tion. Before  the  band  performance  was  finished 
he  and  his  son  were  on  their  way  home,  himself 
in  mortal  terror  lest  the  boy  should  suffer  in- 
sult.    His  worst  fears  were  soon  realized. 

On  the  roof  of  the  car  Macgregor  was  chat- 
tering gayly  when  an  intoxicated  party  in- 
quired, with  a  leer,  if  he  were  aware  that  his 
hat  was  bashed.  Macgregor  shrunk  close  to 
his  father,  whose  wrath  all  but  boiled  over,  and 
was  very  subdued  for  the  rest  of  the  journey. 

As  they  walked  along  the  street  they  were 
met  by  two  small  boys,  who  grinned  at  their 
approach,  and  laughed  loudly  behind  their 
backs.  John  gripped  the  little  fingers  a  thought 
closer,  but  held  his  peace. 

Presently  a  juvenile  voice  behind  them  yelled, 
"Wha  dee'd  an'  left  ye  the  bunnet?"  And  an- 
other exclaimed,  "Gentry  pup!" 

"Never  heed,  Macgreegor/'  whispered  John. 


132  Wee  Macgreegor 

"I — I'm  no'  heedin',  paw,"  said  the  boy, 
tremulously. 

,  Three  little  girls  passed  them,  and  broke  into 
a  combined  fit  of  giggling.  One  cried  "Gran- 
paw  !"  after  them,  and  the  trio  ran  up  a  close. 

But  they  were  nearly  home  now,  and  surely 
the  torment  was  at  an  end.  But  no!  At  the 
corner  of  the  street  appeared  Willie  Thomson 
and  several  other  of  Macgregor's  playmates. 
They  did  not  mean  to  be  unkind,  but  at  the 
sight  of  their  little  friend  they  stared  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  fled  sniggering.  And  from  a 
window  above  came  a  jeering  hail,  "Haw,  you 
wi'  the  fancy  hat !"  followed  by  the  impertinent 
exhortation,  "Come  oot  the  bunnet  an'  let's  see 
yer  feet."  Finally,  as  they  hurried  into  the 
familiar  entry,  a  shout  came  after  them,  in 
which  the  word  "gentry"  was  cruelly  distinct. 
Climbing  the  stairs,  John  wiped  the  perspira- 
tion of  shame  and  wrath  from  his  forehead, 
while  his  son  emitted  strange,  half-choked 
sounds. 


Wee  Macgreegor  U33 

"Never  heed,  Macgreegor,  never  heed," 
whispered  John,  patting  the  heaving  shoulders. 
"Ye'll  no'  wear  it  again,  if  I've  to  buy  ye  a 
dizzen  bunnets." 

They  entered  the  house. 

"Ye're  early  back,"  said  Lizzie,  cheerfully. 

"Ay,  we're  early  back,"  said  her  husband,  in 
a  voice  she  was  not  familiar  with. 

"Mercy  me!  Whit's  a-do?"  she  cried. 
"Whit  ails  ye,  Macgreegor?" 

For  a  moment  there  was  dead  silence.  Then 
Macgregor  dashed  his  new  hat  on  the  floor. 
"I'll  no'  wear  it !  I'll  no'  wear  it !  I  winna  bo 
gentry!  I  winna  be  gentry!"  he  moaned,  and 
rushed  from  the  house,  sobbing  as  if  his  heart 
would  break. 

"De'il  tak'  the  hat !"  said  John,  and,  lifting 
his  foot,  he  kicked  it  across  the  kitchen,  over 
the  jaw-box,  and  out  at  the  open  window.        \ 

Lizzie  stared  at  her  husband  in  consterna- 
tion, and  wee  Jeannie,  not  knowing  what  else 
to  do,  started  screaming  at  the  top  of  her  voice.; 


134  Wee  Macgreegor 

"Ha'e  ye  gaed  daft,  John?"  gasped  Lizzie,  at 
last. 

"Gey  near  it,"  he  replied.  "See,  Lizzie,"  he 
continued,  "that  hat's  to  be  left  in  the  street, 
an'  yer  no'  to  say  a  word  aboot  it  to  Mac- 
greegor. Listen !"  And  he  proceeded  to  supply 
her  with  details. 

"But  it's  a  bewtiful  hat,  an'  that  genteel,  an' 
I  peyed "  she  began  ere  he  had  fin- 
ished. 

"I'm  no'  carin'  whit  ye  peyed  fur  't.  I'd  shin- 
ner  lose  a  week's  pey  nor  see  Macgreegor  in 
anither  Macalpine  hat,  or  whitever  ye  ca'  it. . . . 
Aw,  Lizzie,  if  ye  had  jist  seed  the  wey  the  puir 
laddie  tried  fur  to  keep  frae  greetin'  when  they 
wis  makin'  amock  o'  him,  ye  wud " 

"Here,  John,  haud  wee  Jeannie,"  said  Lizzie, 
abruptly.  "I  maun  see  whit's  come  ower  him. 
....  Dinna  greet,  duckie.  See  if  ye  can  keep 
her  quate,  John." 

Lizzie  was  absent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  re- 
turned looking  miserable.    "I  canna  see  him, 


Wee  Macgreegor  135 

JoHn.  Ye  micht  gang  doon  yersel'.  He's 
maybe  hidin'  frae  me,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh. 

"Nae  fear  o'  that,  dearie.  But  he  disna  like 
folk  to  see  him  greetin'.  That's  why  I  didna 
rin  efter  him  at  first.  But  I'll  awa'  an'  see  if  I 
can  get  him  noo.  An' — an',  Lizzie,  ye'll  no'  say 
onythin'  aboot  the  hat?  I'll  bring  it  up,  if  ye 
want  to  keep  it." 

"Na.  I'll  no'  say  onythin',  but  it's  a  rale 
braw  hat,  an'  that  genteel,  an'  I  doot  some- 
body's rin  aff  wi'  't." 

Just  then  Macgregor  walked  in,  looking 
rather  ashamed  of  himself,  and  with  the  tears 
scarcely  dry.  Yet,  at  the  tenderly  solicitous 
expressions  of  his  parents,  he  smiled  as  if  he 
had  been  waiting  permission  to  do  so. 

"Paw,  there's  a " 

"Gi'e  yer  maw  a  kiss,"  said  John. 

"Ye're  an  awfu'  laddie,"  murmured  Lizzie, 
cuddling  him. 

"Paw,  there's  a  wee " 

"Wud  ye  like  a  curran'-cake  to  yer  tea,  Mac- 


136  .Wee  Macgreegor 

Greegor  ?"   inquired   Lizzie,    as   she    released 
him. 

"Ay,  maw,"  he  answered,  beaming.  Then : 
"Paw,  there's  a  wee  dug  ootbye,  an'  it's  wor- 
ryin'  ma  hat,  an'  it's  pu'in'  it  a'  to  bits  1" 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"Can  I  get  oarin',  paw?"  said  Macgregor 
from  the  stern,  where  he  was  sitting  beside  his 
mother  and  little  sister. 

"Dod,  ay ;  ye'll  get  oarin',"  replied  his  father, 
who  was  rowing  leisurely  and  enjoying  his 
pipe. 

"Na ;  ye  canna  get  oarin',"  exclaimed  Lizzie. 

"Whit  wey,  maw?" 

"Jist  because  ye  canna.  Keep  yer  sate,  too, 
or  ye'll  ha'e  the  boat  coupit." 

"Aw,  the  wean's  fine,"  said  John.  "If  he 
wants  to  get  oarin',  let  him " 

"Macgreegor  maun  bide  whaur  he  is,"  re- 
turned Lizzie.  "Near  a'  the  accidents  i'  the 
papers  comes  o'  folk  changin'  their  sates.  An' 
ye  ken  fine,  John,  I  wudna  ha'e  come  wi'  ye 

13T 


138  Wee  Macgreegor 

the  day  if  ye  hadna  tell 't  me  there  wud  be  nae 
cairry-ons  in  the  boat." 

"Och,  ye're  awfu'  easy  frichtit,"  remarked 
her  husband,  good-humoredly. 

"Ay ;  I'm  easy  frichtit.  Whit  wud  I  dae  wi' 
wee  Jeannie  if  the  boat  wis  capsizin'  ?  I'm  fur 
nae  wattery  graves,  thenk  ye,  John  1" 

"Havers,  wumman !  Come  on,  Macgreegor, 
an'  I'll  learn  ye  to " 

"Dinna  stir  a  fit,  Macgreegor,  or  I'll " 

"I  want  to  get  oarin',  maw." 

"Weel,  I'm  tellin'  ye  ye  canna  get  oarin' ;  an* 
that's  jist  a'  aboot  it !  Luk  at  wee  Jeannie,  noo, 
an'  her  that  nice  an'  quate.  She's  no'  wantin' 
to  get  oarin'  an'  ha'e  us  a'  droondit — are  ye, 
ma  doo  ?" 

Wee  Jeannie  continued  to  apply  herself  to  a 
stick  of  barley-sugar,  and  said  nothing. 

"She's  ower  wee  fur  to  oar,"  said  Mac- 
gregor,  scornfully.  "  Whit  wey  can  I  no'  get 
oarin',  maw?" 

"Michty  me !  Can  ye  no'  tak'  a  tellin',  laddie  ? 


Wee  Macgreegor  139 

See  the  yatts  thonder!  See  thon  big  yin  wi' 
the  yella  lum !" 

"It's  no'  a  lum;  it's  a  funnel,"  returned  Mac- 
gregor,  coldly. 

"Aweel,  it's  a'  yin,"  said  his  mother,  agree- 
ably. "See  thon  steamboat  comin'  to  the  pier ! 
Whit  a  reek!  It's  got  yella  lums — funnels — 
tae." 

"I  like  rid  funnels  better  nor  yella  yins.  Can 
I  get  oarin'  noo,  maw  ?" 

"Tits,  Macgreegor !  I  wunner  at  ye  gaun  on 
aboot  oarin'  when  I've  tell  't  ye  ye  canna.  A 
fine  job  it  wud  be  if  ye  coupit  the  boat  an'  a 
whale  got  the  haud  o'  ye !" 

"There's  nae  whales  at  Rothesay." 

"Is  there  no'?" 

"  Granpaw  said  there  was  nane ;  an'  he 
kens." 

John  chuckled.  "He  had  ye  there,  Lizzie," 
he  said.  "Ye  canna  doot  yer  ain  feyther's 
word." 

"Aweel,"  said  Lizzie,  "there  raajr  be  nae 


140  Wee  Macgreegor 

whales  as  a  rule,  but  nae  man  kens  whit's  in  the 
sea,  as  Solyman  says." 

"Whales  is  feart  fur  folk,"  observed  her  son. 

"The  whale  wisna  feart  fur  puir  Jonah,  Mac- 
greegor." 

"If  I  had  been  Jonah " 

"Ye  wud  jist  ha'e  been  ett  up  fur  *orty  days 
and  forty  nichts." 

"Iwudna!" 

"Ah,  but  ye  wud !  An'  it  wudna  be  vera  nice 
in  the  whale's  inside." 

"  I  wud  ha'e  jaggit  it  wi'  knifes  an'  preens 
till  it  let  me  oot,"  said  the  valiant  Mac- 
gregor. 

John  laughed  loudly,  and  Lizzie  said,  re- 
provingly :  "Ye  sudna  laugh  when  Macgreegor 
says  sic  daft-like  things.  Ye  jist  encourage 
him  wi'  his  blethers  an'  boastin'.  .  .  .  Mac- 
greegor, I  tell  ye,  if  ye  wis  in  the  whale's  in- 
side ye  wud  jist  be  roarin'  an'  greetin'  fur  yer 
maw." 
"I  wudna!" 


,Wee  Macgreegor  141 

''Ay,  wud  ye!  Sae  ye  needna  be  boastin' 
aboot  knifes  an'  preens." 

"Wis  Jonah  roarin'  an'  greetin'  fur  his  maw, 
maw  ?" 

"Ach,  haud  yer  tongue !  See  thon  wee  boat 
wi'  the  sail." 

"Whit  wey  has  this  boat  no'  got  a  sail, 
maw  ?" 

"It's  got  nae  mast,  ye  see,  Macgreegor,"  said 
his  father. 

"Whit  wey  has  it  no'  got  a  mast,  paw  ?" 

"Weel,  ma  mannie,  it's  jist  a  boat  fur 
oarin',"  said  John. 

"Can  I  get  oarin'  noo?"  asked  Macgregor. 

"I'm  shair  I've  tell  't  ye  a  dizzen  times  ye 
canna,"  cried  his  mother,  who  was  engaged  in 
fixing  a  fresh  bit  of  paper  to  one  end  of  wee 
Jeannie's  barley-sugar. 

"When '11  I  get  oarin'?" 

"No'  the  noo,  onywey." 

"Wull  I  get  oarin'  in  a  wee  while, 
maw  ?" 


142  Wee  Macgreegor 

"Ye'll  no'  get  oarin'  the  day,  sae  ye  needna 
be " 


"Will  I  get  oarin'  the  morn,  maw  ?" 

"Oh,  my !  Wis  there  ever  sic  a  wean !  Deed, 
Macgreegor,  ye  wad  spile  the  patients  o'  Job! 
Whit  are  ye  wantin'  to  oar  fur  ?" 

"I  jist  want  to  oar." 

"Let  the  wean  oar,  Lizzie!"  said  John 
mildly. 

"Na,  I'll  no'  let  him  oar!  An'  I  think  ye 
micht  ha'e  mair  sense  nor  to  say  'let  him  oar' 
when  I've  tell  't  him  fifty  times  he  canna  get 
oarin'." 

"But  the  wean's  that  disappintit,"  urged  her 
husband. 

"Better  disappintit  nor  droondit,"  quoth  Liz- 
zie, shortly.  "Whaur  are  ye  gaun  noo,  John?" 
she  suddenly  inquired. 

"Oot  to  get  thon  steamboat's  waves,"  he  re- 
turned, laying  down  his  pipe  and  bending  to 
the  oars. 

"Whit's  that  ye  say?" 


Wee  Macgrefgor  143 

"I'm  gaun  to  tak'  ye  oot  to  get  a  wee  shoogy- 
shoo  wi'  thon  steamboat's  waves." 

"I'm  for  nane  o'  yer  shoogy-shoos,  John." 

"Whit  fur  no'  ?  Macgreegor  likes  a  shoogy- 
shoo.    Eh,  Macgreegor?" 

"Ay,  paw,"  replied  Macgregor,  roused  from 
apparently  gloomy  reflections.  "I  like  when 
the  boat's  whumlin'  aboot." 

"I'll  whumble  ye !"  cried  his  mother.  "Noo, 
John,  ye' re  no'  to  dae  't.  We'll  get  sookit  into 
the  paiddles,  as  shair  's  daith !" 

"Nae  fears,  wumman." 

"Ah,  but  there  is  fears !  I'm  no'  wantin'  to 
get  ma  heid  an'  ma  airms  an'  ma  legs  ca'ed 
aff,  an'  droondit  furbye!" 

"Wud  the  paiddles  ca'  wur  heids  aff?"  in- 
quired Macgregor,  with  interest. 

"They  wud  that,"  said  Lizzie,  relieved  to  see 
her  husband  altering  his  course. 

"An'  wud  wur  heids  gang  intil  the  ingynes  ?" 
pursued  the  youngster. 

"Oh,  haud  yer  tongue,  Macgreegor!"  cried 


144  Wee  Macgreegor 

his  horrified  mother.  "Whit  a  notion  fur  a 
wean !"  she  observed  to  John. 

"Paw,  wud  wur  heids  gang " 

"Whisht,  laddie!"  said  his  father.  "Yer 
maw  disna  like  it." 

"Whit  wey?" 

Getting  no  answer,  he  relapsed  into  a 
thoughtful  silence,  which  lasted  for  about  three 
minutes. 

"  Can  I  no'  get  oarin'  noo  ?"  he  at  length 
inquired. 

"Here's  a  boat  wi'  a  rid  funnel  comin',"  said 
John. 

"Can  I  no'  get " 

"Dod,  there's  an  awfu*  crood  on  board  her. 
D'  ye  see  the  folk,  Macgreegor?" 

"Ay.    But  can  I  no' " 

"Ha'e,  Macgreegor,"  said  Lizzie,  who  had 
been  fumbling  in  her  pocket,  "there's  a  lozenger 
fur  ye." 

"Thenk  ye,  maw,"  he  returned,  <uid  remained 
quiet  for  a  little. 


lWee  Macgreegor  145 

Then,  "Ma  fit's  sleepin' !"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
want  to  dance." 

"Ye  canna  dance  here,"  said  his  mother. 
"Rub  yer  leg  an'  dunt  yer  fit  on  the  floor.  But 
dinna  get  aff  yer  sate." 

Macgregor  rubbed  and  dunted  for  some  time, 
but  without  obtaining  relief.  "It's  fu'  o'  preens 
an'  needles,  an'  it's  gettin'  waur,"  he  com- 
plained. 

"Weel,  ye  maun  jist  thole  it,  fur  ye  canna  get 
up  an'  dance  in  the  boat,'"  said  Lizzie,  not  un- 
sympathetically.  "Try  wagglin'  yer  leg, 
dearie." 

Macgregor  waggled  violently,  but  to  little 
purpose.  His  countenance  expressed  extreme 
discomfort.  "It's  awfu'  jaggy,"  he  said  sev- 
eral times. 

"Puir  laddie,"  said  his  father.  "It's  a  nesty 
thing  a  sleepin'-fit.    Is  't  no',  Lizzie?" 

"Ay,  I  mind  I  yinst  had  it  in  the  kirk,  an'  I 
wis  near  dementit.  Is  't  no*  gettin'  better, 
Macgreegor  ?" 


146  Wee  Macgreegor 

"Naw ;  it's  gettin'  waur,  maw." 

The  parents  became  quite  concerned  about 
the  sufferer. 

"I  doot  ye'll  ha'e  to  gang  to  the  shore,  John," 
said  Lizzie,  "an'  let  him  get  streetchin'  hissel' !" 

"Ay,  he's  got  crampit  wi'  sittin'  there  sae 
lang.  Weans  isna  used  to  sittin'  quate.  Is  't 
rale  bad,  ma  mannie  ?" 

"A'  ma  leg's  jaggy  noo,"  replied  the  boy. 

"Lizzie,"  said  John,  suddenly,  "if  the  wean 
wis  gettin'  oarin'  fur  a  wee,  dae  ye  no' 
think " 

"Na,  na.  I  canna  thole  folk  gallivantin' 
aboot  in  boats.  Mercy  me !  ther's  folk  droondit 
every  day  jist  wi'  changin'  their  sates." 

"I  cud  creep  to  the  ither  sate,  maw,"  said( 
Macgregor,  who  had  suddenly  ceased  rubbing, 
dunting,  and  waggling. 

"An'  he's  ower  wee,  furbye,"  objected  Lizzie. 

"I'm  no',  maw.  Wullie  Thomson's  wee'er 
nor  me,  an'  he  aye  gets  oarin'." 

"Is  yer  fit  better  ?"  asked  Lizzie. 


"Wee  Macgreegor  147 

"Naw,"  said  her  son,  hastily  resuming  oper- 
ations. "Wullie  Thomson's  maw  lets  him  oar," 
he  added. 

"I  suppose  ye  wud  shinner  ha'e  Wullie's 
maw  nor  yer  ain,"  she  said,  glancing  at  her 
husband. 

Apparently  Macgregor  did  not  hear. 

"D'  ye  hear  whit  yer  maw's  say  in',  Mac- 
greegor ?"  said  John.  "She's  speirin'  if  ye  wud 
like  Mrs.  Thomson  fur  yer  maw  instead  o' 
hersel'." 

"Nae  fears,"  said  Macgregor,  promptly.  "I 
like  ma  ain  maw  best." 

"Ye're  an  awfu'  laddie,"  sighed  Lizzie. 
".Wull  ye  be  rale  canny  if  I  let  ye  get  oarin'?" 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Old  Mr.  Purdie  placed  his  closed  hands  be- 
hind his  back,  and,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
delivered  himself  of  the  ancient  rhyme — 

"Neevy,  neevy,  nick  nack, 
Which  haun'  will  you  tak'  ? 
Tak'  the  richt,  or  tak'  the  wrang, 
An'  I'll  beguile  ye  if  I  can !" 

"I'll  tak*  the  richt,  granpaw,"  said  Mac- 
gregor. 

Mr.  Purdie  extended  the  member  mentioned, 
disclosing  a  slab  of  toffee  done  up  in  trans- 
parent paper.  "Ye're  a  rale  smairt  laddie,"  he 
observed,  with  a  chuckle.  "Ye  aye  guess  whaur 
the  gundy  is." 

"Ay,  I'm  gey  fly,"  returned  Macgregor, 
modestly,  beginning  an  onslaught  on  the  sweet. 

Mr.  Purdie  chuckled  again,  and  slipped  the 

148 


Wee  Macgreegor  149 

packet  of  toffee,  which  had  been  concealed  in 
his  left  hand,  into  his  pocket. 

"I'm  aye  richt,  am  I  no'?"  inquired  his 
grandson. 

"Ay,  are  ye,  Macgreegor!  It  bates  me  to 
think  hoo  ye  ken." 

"Aw,  I  jist  ken.  .  .  .  It's  awfu'  guid!" 

"It  it?" 

"Ay.    I'll  gi'e  ye  a  taste." 

"Na,  na,"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  looking  pleased. 
"I'll  jist  ha'e  a  bit  smoke  to  masel'.  Ye' re  no' 
to  tell  yer  maw  I  wis  gi'en  ye  gundy,  though; 
an'  yer  no'  to  let  it  spile  yer  tea." 

"I'll  never  let  bug,  granpaw,"  said  Mac- 
gregor,  as  if  to  set  his  relative's  guilty  con- 
science at  rest. 

The  twain  had  come  down  to  the  shore  at 
low  water,  and  Mr.  Purdie  was  resting  on  a 
rock,  while  Macgregor  hunted  among  the 
stones  and  sea-weed  for  small  crabs,  several  of 
which  he  had  secured  already  and  confined  in 
an  old  battered  meat  tin. 


150  Wee  Macgreegor 

"Noo,  dinna  get  yer  feet  wat,  laddie,"  said 
Mr.  Purdie  when  he  had  got  his  pipe,  a  highly- 
seasoned  clay,  well  alight. 

"Nae  fears,  granpaw,"  returned  the  boy,  re- 
assuringly. As  a  matter  of  fact,  his  feet  at  the 
very  moment  were  squelching  in  his  boots. 
"Here's  anither!"  he  exclaimed,  holding  up  a 
tiny  crab.  "It's  awfu'  kitly,"  he  added,  as  he 
allowed  it  to  run  on  the  palm  of  his  hand.  "It's 
ower  wee  fur  to  nip.  Wud  ye  like  to  fin'  it  in 
yer  haun',  granpaw?" 

"Deed,  ay,"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  with  the  desire 
to  please  his  grandson.  "Ay,  it's  gey  an'  kitly. 
An'  whit  are  ye  gaun  to  dae  wP  a'  thae 
partins  ?"  he  inquired,  indicating  the  meat 
tin. 

"I'm  gaun  to  tak'  them  hame." 

"No'  to  Glesca?" 

"Ay,  to  Glesca!" 

"Aw,  but  they'll  jist  dee,  Macgreegor." 

"Whit  wey?" 

"Partins  winna  leeve  in  Glesca." 


Wee  Macgreegor  1151 

"Whit  wey  wull  they  no'  ?" 

"They  need  saut  watter." 

"I'll  tak'  saut  watter  hame,  tae.  I'll  tak'  it  in 
a  botle>  granpaw." 

Mr.  Purdie  shook  his  head,  and  the  boy 
looked  disappointed. 

"Whit  wud  ye  dae  wi'  partins  in  Glesca?" 
asked  the  former. 

"Naethin'." 

"An'  whit  wud  ye  tak'  them  hame  fur  ?" 

"It  wisna  fur  masel'.  I'm  no'  heedin'  aboot 
partins.  I  wud  be  feart  fur  them  growin'  big 
an'  creepin'  intil  ma  bed.  It  wis  wee  Joseph 
wantit  partins." 

"Wha's  wee  Joseph?" 

"He's  a  wee  laddie.  He's  faur  wee-er  nor 
me,  an'  he's  lyin'  badly,  an'  his  paw's  deid,  an' 
his  maw  washes." 

"Ay,  ay.  An'  sae  wee  Joseph  wantit  ye  to 
bring  him  partins  ?" 

"He  wantit  a  monkey  first;  he  thocht  there 
wis  monkeys  in  Rothesay,  sclimmin'  up  the 


152  .Wee  Macgreegor 

rocks  an*  runnin*  aboot  the  pier  an'  the  shore. 
Wee  Joseph's  never  seen  the  sea." 

"That's  peetifu'.  An'  ye  tell 't  him  there  wis 
nae  monkeys?" 

"Ay ;  an'  he  begood  fur  to  greet.  An'  I  tell 
't  him  aboot  the  partins,  an'  he  said  he  wud 
like  a  wheen  partins,  an' — an'  I  thocht  the  par- 
tins  wud  leeve  in  Glesca,  an' — an' — I'll  jist  tim 
them  oot  an'  bash  them  wi'  a  stane." 

"Na,  na.  Ye  mauna  dae  that,  Macgreegor," 
exclaimed  Mr.  Purdie,  hastily.  "The  puir 
beasties  canna  help  no'  bein'  able  to  leeve  in 
Glesca." 

"I'll  bash  them,"  cried  Macgregor,  violently. 

"Haud  on,  laddie,  haud  on.  If  ye  wis  a  wee 
partin,  hoo  wud  ye  like  if  a  big  laddie  cam'  an' 
bashed  ye  wi'  a  stane?" 

"If  I  wis  a  partin,  I  wud  leeve  in  Glesca." 
And  the  youngster's  eyes  moved  in  search  of  a 
suitable  stone. 

"Macgreegor,"  implored  the  old  man,  laying 
his  pipe  on    the   rock  and  rising,    "dae  ye 


Wee  Macgreegor  153 

think  wee  Joseph  wud  like  ye  to  bash  the 
partins  ?" 

"Ay,  wud  he." 

"I'm  shair  he  wudna.  The  puir  wee  partins 
never  done  onybody  hairm." 

Macgregor  picked  up  a  small  bowlder,  re- 
marking, "Partins  nips  folks'  taes  when  they're 
dookin'." 

"Ay ;  but  no'  wee  partins  like  thur." 

"Thae  wee  yins  '11  shin  be  big,"  said  Mac- 
gregor, coldly.  "I'll  bash  this  yin  first,"  he 
added,  selecting  a  poor  little  specimen  from  the 
tin  and  laying  it  on  the  rock. 

Grandfather  Purdie  seized  the  uplifted  arm. 
"Macgreegor,"  he  said,  gently,  "ye' re  no'  to 
dae  it." 

"Whit  wey?" 

"Because,"  said  the  old  man,  searching  for 
an  argument  that  might  appeal  to  the  young 
savage — "because  it's  sic  a  wee  bit  thing." 

"It's  gey  wee,"  admitted  Macgregor,  peering 
into  the  tin  while  the  victim  slid  off  the  rock 


154  Wee  Macgreegor 

and  escaped ;  "ay,  it's  gey  wee.  Here's  a  big- 
ger yin.    I'll  bash  it." 

"Macgreegor,"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  solemnly, 
"ye  mauna  be  crool.  Ye  wudna  like  if  a  muckle 
giant  got  a  grup  o'  yersel',  an'  wis  gaun  to  bash 
ye  wi'  his  club." 

"It's  a'  lees  aboot  giants.  There's  na  giants." 

"Aweel,  ye're  no'  to  be  crool,  onywey,"  said 
Mr.  Purdie,  at  a  loss.  "Let  the  wee  partins 
rin  awa',  an'  dinna  vex  yer  granpaw.  The  wee 
beasties  is  that  happy,  ye  ken,  an'  it  wud  be  a 
sin  to  bash  them.  They're  jist  like  weans  doon 
at  the  coast  fur  the  fair,  rinnin'  aboot  an'  en- 
joyin'  theirsel's,  an'  they'll  be  awfu'  obleeged 
to  ye  fur  no'  bashin'  them." 

The  old  man  had  evidently  struck  the  right 
chord  at  last,  for  Macgregor  dropped  the  stone 
and  said,  "Weel,  I'll  no'  bash  them,  granpaw." 

"That's  a  fine  laddie." 

"An'  I'll  let  them  awa',"  he  added,  turning 
the  tin  upside  down. 

Mr.  Purdie  patted  the  boy's  cheek.    "I  kent 


Wee  Macgreegor  155 

ye  wudna  be  crool,"  he  said,  tenderly.  "Here 
anither  bit  gundy  fur  yer  gab." 

"Thenk  you,  granpaw." 

"An'  ye'll  never  think  o'  bashin'  partins 
again,  Macgreegor?" 

"Naw.  But — but  wee  Joseph  '11  be  unco 
sorry." 

"Aha !  But  we'll  ha'e  to  see  aboot  somethin' 
fur  wee  Joseph.  Whit  d'  ye  think  he  wud 
like?" 

"He  wantit  somethin'  that  wis  leevin'." 

"Leevin'?  Dod,  that's  no'  sae  easy,"  said 
Mr.  Purdie,  resuming  his  seat  and  pipe  and 
gazing  thoughtfully  across  the  bay.  "I  ken  a 
man  here  that  keeps  birds,"  he  remarked  at 
last.  "Wud  wee  Joseph  like  a  bird,  think 
ye?" 

"Naw,"  Macgregor  firmly  and  unhesitating- 
ly replied. 

"A  bird  wud  be  a  nice  pet  fur  a  laddie  that's 
lyin'  badly.  It  wud  cheep  an'  sing  til  him,  ye 
ken." 


156  Wee  Macgreegor 

"Birds  is  ower  easy  kill't.  Ye  canna  play  wi' 
birds  in  yer  bed." 

"Deed,  that's  true.  .  .  .  Whit  think  ye  o'  a 
wee  cat  ?  Mrs.  M'Conkie  the  grocer's  got  kit- 
tens the  noo." 

"Joseph  had  a  wee  cat,  an'  it  scartit  his  neb, 
an'  his  maw  pit  it  oot  the  hoose.  He  had  white 
mice  anither  time,  an'  they  had  young  yins,  but 
his  maw  wudna  let  him  keep  them  in  the  bed." 

"Weel,"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  "I'm  shair  I  dinna 
ken  whit  to  say,  Macgreegor." 

"The  partins  wis  best,  if  they  wud  ha'e 
leeved.  Wee  Joseph  wis  fur  keepin'  them  in  a 
boax,  an'  him  an'  me  wis  gaun  to  mak'  them 
rin  races  on  the  blanket.  Maybe  they  wud  catch 
their  feet  in  the  oose,  though." 

"I  doot  they  wud,  puir  beasties.  .  .  .  But 
I'm  feart  we  canna  get  Joseph  onythin'  that's 
leevin'." 

Macgregor  looked  depressed,  whereat  his 
grandfather  sighed  helplessly  and  let  his  pipe 
go  out. 


.Wee  Macgreegor  157 

"Ye  see,  laddie,  there's  no'  mony  things  ye 
can  gi'e  til  a  wean  that's  lyin'  badly,"  said 
the  old  man.  "  Wull  Joseph  be  better 
shin  ?" 

"Naw.  It's  his  back  that  hurts  him.  He's 
awfu'  bad  whiles.    I  wudna  like  to  be  him." 

"That's  maist  peetifu'.  I'll  tell  ye  whit  we'll 
dae,  Macgreegor." 

"Whit,  granpaw?" 

"We'll  ha'e  a  keek  at  the  shopes  afore  we 
gang  hame  to  wur  tea,  an'  ye' 11  maybe  see 
somethin'  that  wud  please  him." 

"Wull  we  gang  noo?"  exclaimed  the  young- 
ster, brightening. 

Mr.  Purdie  consulted  a  fat  silver  watch. 

"Aye,  we'll  gang  noo,  an'  see  whit  we  can  see. 
Gi'e's  yer  haun,  Macgreegor.  .  .  .  Hech,  sirs ! 
but  ye're  no'  to  gar  me  rin.  I'm  no'  as  soople 
as  yersel',  ma  mannie.  Mind  yer  feet,  or  we'll 
baith  be  tum'lin  on  the  slippy  places." 

Without  mishap,  however,  they  came  to  the 
road,  and  soon  reached  the  town,  Mr.  Purdie 


ri58  Wee  Macgreegor 

"pechin"  and  Macgregor  beaming  with  antici- 
pation. 

At  a  window  which  seemed  to  be  stocked 
with  all  the  toys  and  trifles  in  creation  they 
paused  and  gazed. 

"Ha'e,"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  producing  his 
purse,  "there's  a  thrupny-bit.  Jist  tak'  yer 
pick,  Macgreegor." 

"Thenk  ye,  granpaw.  Oh,  whit  '11  I 
buy  ?" 

"Wud  ye  no'  like  to  buy  thon  braw  joog  wi' 
the  pictur'  on  it  ?" 

"Naw." 

"I'm  thinkin'  it  wud  be  a  nice  kin'  o'  thing 
fur  Joseph.  Ye  see  it's  got  'A  Present  frae 
Rothesay'  on  it ;  an'  he  wud  like  gettin'  his  tea 
oot  o'  it.    Eh?" 

"Naw." 

"Aweel,  ye  maun  please  yersel'.  There's  a 
pent-boax,  noo.  |Wud  Joseph  like  to  pent, 
think  ye?" 

"Na.  I  like  pentin' — I'm  gaun  to  be  a  penter 


Wee  Macgreegor  159 

when  I'm  a  man.    But  I'm  gaun  to  ha'e  pots  o' 
pent  an'  big  dauds  o'  potty." 

"Weel,  maybe  wee  Joseph " 

1     "Naw." 

"There's  a  pretty  pictur'-book,"  said  Mr. 

Purdie.     "Dae  ye  think " 

"Naw." 

The  old  man  gave  up. 

"I'll  buy  thon  trumpet,"  cried  the  boy  at  last. 

"I  doot,  when  wee  Joseph's  lyin'  badly,  he'll 
no'  be  vera  fit  to  blaw  a  trumpet." 

"I  cud  blaw  it  fur  him,  granpaw.  I  can  blaw 
rale  hard." 

"Ay,  but  I'm  feart  wee  Joseph  michtna  like 
that." 

"Whit  wey?" 

Mr.  Purdie  was  about  to  attempt  explaining, 
when  suddenly  Macgregor  gave  vent  to  a  cry 
of  delight.  "See— oh,  see!  there's  a  monkey 
hingin'  in  the  corner !" 

"Haste  ye  an'  buy  it,"  said  his  grandfather, 
laughing. 


160  [WEE  Macgreegor 

Macgregor  required  no  second  bidding,  and 
a  couple  of  minutes  later  he  was  exhibiting  his 
purchase.  It  was  an  earthenware  monkey  that 
bounded  merrily  at  the  end  of  a  piece  of  elastic. 
"It's  gey  near  leevin',  is  't  no'  ?"  he  demanded. 
"See  it  loupin'!"  And  he  continued  to  play 
with  it  until  they  were  nearly  home. 

"Wee  Joseph  '11  be  unco  gled  to  see  it.  It'  11 
gar  him  lauch,  puir  laddie,"  said  Mr.  Purdie. 

"Ay,"  assented  Macgregor,  without  much 
animation.  For  the  moment  he  had  somehow 
forgotten  all  about  wee  Joseph.  He  wound  the 
elastic  carefully  about  the  monkey's  neck,  and 
walked  on  in  silence. 

"Ye'll  like  gi'ein'  it  to  the  puir  laddie,"  said 
Mr.  Purdie,  glancing  down. 

"Ay,"  answered  Macgregor  in  a  husky 
whisper. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Robinson  family  were  spending  the 
week  end  at  old  Mr.  Purdie's  Rothesay  resi- 
dence, but,  much  to  their  disappointment,  the 
weather  had  completely  broken  down  an  hour 
after  their  arrival.  Macgregor  stood  at  the 
window,  gazing  disconsolately  at  the  misty 
bay,  while  his  elders — wee  Jeannie  having  been 
put  to  bed — talked  of  matters  which  seemed  to 
him  totally  void  of  interest. 

"Can  I  get  gaun  ootbye  noo?"  he  inquired 
at  last  of  his  mother,  who  was  busily  knitting 
and  talking  to  Grandma  Purdie. 

Lizzie  glanced  at  the  window.  "Deed,  Mac- 
greegor,  ye  needna  be  speirin'  aboot  gaun  oot 
the  nicht." 

"It's  no'  sae  wat  noo,  maw." 

"I'm   thinkin'    it   cudna   be   muckle   waur, 

dearie.    Ye  wud  be  fair  drookit  in  hauf  a  mee- 
161 


1 62  Wee  Macgreegor 

nit.  Jist  content  yersel'  in  the  hoose,  an'  ye'll 
maybe  get  a  fine  day  the  morn." 

"I  want  to  gang  to  the  pier  an'  see  the  steam- 
boats comin'  in,  maw." 

"Aweel,  I'm  rale  vexed  fur  ye,  but  ye're 
no'  gaun  ower  the  door  the  nicht.  Whaur's  yer 
graun'  pictur'-book  ?" 

"I  seen  a'  the  pictur's." 

"Puir  laddie,"  said  Grandma  Purdie,  "it's 
no*  vera  cheery  fur  him  sittin'  in  the  hoose  a' 
nicht.  John,  can  ye  no'  divert  the  wean  a  wee? 
Gi'e  him  a  bit  ride  on  yer  fit,  man." 

"Come  on,  Macgreegor!"  his  father  cried, 
willingly.  "Come  awa'  and  ha'e  a  ride  on  ma 
fit." 

I  "Ach,  he's  ower  big  fur  that  kin'  o'  gemm," 
said  Grandpa  Purdie,  noticing  that  Macgregor 
did  not  appear  to  appreciate  the  invitation. 
"Are  ye  no',  ma  mannie  ?" 

"Ay,"  muttered  Macgregor. 

"Wud  ye  like  to  build  hooses  wi'  the  domi- 
noes ?"  inquired  the  old  gentleman. 


Wee  Macgreegor  163 

Macgregor  shook  his  head. 

"Weel,  wud  ye  like  to  build  castels  wi'  the 
draughts  ?" 

Macgregor  shook  his  head  again,  and  looked 
gloomier  and  more  ill-used  than  ever. 

"I  ken  whit  Macgreegor  wud  like,"  put  in 
John.  "Him  an'  me  kens  a  fine  gemm.  I'll  be 
a  draygon,  an'  hide  in  ma  den  ablow  the  table, 
and  Macgreegor  '11  hunt  me.  I'll  mak'  him  a 
spear  oot  o'  ma  Evenin'  Times,  an'  he'll  stab 
me  till  I'm  deid.    Eh,  Macgreegor?" 

"Fine!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Purdie. 

"Preserve  us  a' !"  cried  Mrs.  Purdie. 

"Oh,  John  and  Macgreegor  whiles  ha'e  fine 
gemms  at  the  draygon,"  said  Lizzie,  pleasantly. 
"But  it's  unco  sair  on  John's  breeks;  an'  he's 
got  on  his  guid  claes  the  nicht.  .  .  .  Pu'  them 
up  a  wee,  John,  sae  as  no'  to  spile  the 
knees." 

"A'  richt,  wumman,"  replied  John,  as  he 
rolled  his  newspaper  into  a  harmless  weapon. 
Presently  he  handed  it  to  his  son,  and  disap- 


164  Wee  Macgreegor 

peared  under  the  table,  where  he  covered  his 
head  with  a  red  woolen  tidy. 

"Come  on,  Macgreegor;  I'm  ready  fur  ye 
noo!"  he  shouted,  and  immediately  proceeded 
to  emit  fearsome  noises. 

"It  bates  a'!"  Grandma  Purdie  cried,  quite 
excitedly.    "Whit  a  gemm !" 

"John,"  said  Lizzie,  "did  ye  pu'  up  yer 
breeks?" 

"Hoo  can  a  draygon  pu'  up  breeks?"  re- 
turned her  husband ;  and  he  resumed  his  growl- 
ings  and  groanings,  while  Macgregor  began 
to  stalk  his  prey  with  great  caution  and 
stealth. 

"See  an'  no'  pit  oot  yer  paw's  een,"  said  old 
Mrs.  Purdie,  a  trifle  nervously. 

"Gi'e  the  draygon  a  bit  jab,  an'  gar  him 
come  oot  his  den,"  said  Mr.  Purdie.  "Dod,  if  I 
wis  jist  a  wee  thing  soopler,  Macgreegor,  I 
wud  mak'  ye  anither  draygon." 

Just  then  the  dragon  made  a  claw  at  the  leg 
of  the  hunter,  who  let  out  a  piercing  yell  and 


lWee  Macgreegor  H65 

lunged  wildly  with  his  spear,  without,  however, 
getting  it  home.  The  fun  became  fast  and 
furious. 

"Come  oot  yer  den,  ye  auld  draygon,  till  I 
bore  a  hole  in  ye !"  yelled  the  bold  Macgregor. 

"Gurr — gurr!"  said  the  dragon,  suddenly 
appearing  on  trie  other  side  of  the  table. 

At  this  point  the  door  opened,  and  Aunt 
Purdie  stepped  in.  "What's  ado,  what's  ado  ?" 
she  inquired,  rather  sourly.  John  rose  from  the 
floor,  trying  to  look  at  his  ease,  and  Macgregor, 
the  spirit  of  play  being  abruptly  chilled,  shook 
hands  dutifully  with  his  relative  and  straight- 
way retired  to  the  window. 

Aunt  Purdie,  whose  husband's  grocery  busi- 
ness was  rapidly  increasing,  had  taken  rooms 
in  Rothesay,  not  far  from  the  old  folks,  for 
July  and  August.  She  was  much  too  superior 
and  proper  a  person  for  the  Robinsons,  and  she 
was  Macgregor's  pet  aversion.  As  Lizzie  was 
wont  to  say,  she  was  "rale  genteel,  but  awfu' 
easy  offendit." 


1 66  iWee  Macgreegor 

"I  was  intending  to  go  to  the  pier  for  to  meet 
Robert,"  she  observed,  as  she  sat  down,  "but 
it  was  that  wet  I  jist  came  in  to  wait." 

"Ye're  rale  welcome,"  said  Grandma  Purdie, 
kindly.    "Whit  boat  is  Rubbert  comin'  wi'  ?" 

"Robert  is  coming  in  the  seven  o'clock  p.  m. 
train  from  Glasgow.  He  cannot  leave  the 
shope  any  earlier  the  now." 

"Weel,  he'll  no'  be  compleenin'  if  trade's 
guid,"  said  Mrs.  Purdie,  brightly.  "He'll  ken 
to  come  here  for  ye  the  nicht,  nae  doot." 

"Yes,"  said  Aunt  Purdie.  Then  turning  to 
Lizzie,  but  speaking  so  that  every  one  in  the 
room  might  hear,  she  said,  "I've  jist  received 
a  letter  from  my  friend,  Mrs.  M'Cluny." 

"Ha'e  ye?"  returned  Lizzie,  politely.  She 
knew  that  she  was  about  to  be  treated  to  news 
of  her  sister-in-law's  grand  acquaintances,  in 
whom  she  had  not  the  slightest  interest. 

"M'Cluny!"  exclaimed  old  Mr.  Purdie. 
"Dod,  but  that's  a  queer-like  name  to  gang  to 
the  kirk  wi' !    It's  liker  Gartnavel." 


Wee  Macgreegor  167 

"It  is  very  old  Highland,"  said  Aunt  Purdie, 
with  dignity. 

"Ten  year  in  botle,"  muttered  John,  with  a 
snigger,  whereat  Mr.  Purdie  slapped  his  knee 
and  laughed  loudly. 

"Mrs.  M'Cluny,"  went  on  Aunt  Purdie,  "in- 
forms me  that  Dr.  M'Cluny  has  got  to  leave 
Glasgow." 

"Wha's  he  been  kilhV?"  asked  Mr.  Purdie, 
and  John  stifled  a  guffaw. 

"Haud  yer  tongue,  man,"  whispered  old 
Mrs.  Purdie,  fearing  lest  her  son's  wife  should 
take  offence,  as  she  had  done  too  often  before. 

"Dr.  M'Cluny,"  the  visitor  continued,  "has 
received  an  appointment  in  England.  It  is  a 
very  good  appointment,  but  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know  what  we  are  to  do  wanting  Mrs.  M'Cluny 
when  the  winter  season  begins." 

"Dis  she  gi'e  awa'  coals  an'  blankets?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Purdie,  with  a  serious  face. 

The  lady  glanced  at  him  sharply.  "I  was  re- 
ferring to  Mrs.  M'Cluny 's  social — a — posee- 


1 68  Wee  Macgreegor 

tion,"  she  said,  stiffly.  "We  shall  miss  her 
greatly  at  our  parties  and  conversonies.  She 
was  that  genteel — I  might  even  say  autocratic. 
Her  and  me  is  great  friends,  and  we  have  been 
often  complimented  for  our  arrangements  at 
entertainments  when  we  was  on  the  commytee. 
Everybody  says  Mrs.  M'Cluny  is  a  capital 
organism." 

"Deed,  ye'll  jist  ha'e  to  tak'  her  place  when 
she's  awa',"  said  Mr.  Purdie,  winking  at  John. 

"Well,  I  must  do  my  best,"  returned  Aunt 
Purdie,  modestly.  "Of  course,  it  has  always 
been  against  Mrs.  M'Cluny  that  her  husband 
kep'  a  doctor's  shope,"  she  added. 

"Bless  me,  wumman,  whit's  wrang  wi'  that  ? 
If  a  man's  gaun  to  tell  folk  to  tak'  pooshun,  he 
micht  as  weel  sell  it,"  cried  the  old  man. 

"It  is  not  conseedered  the  proper  thing  by 
the  best  people." 

"Havers !    Ye're  ain  man  keeps  a  shope." 

"A  grocery  establishment,"  said  Aunt  Pur- 
die, "is  a  very  different  thing  from  a  doctor's 


Wee  Macgreegor  169 

shope.  I've  never  heard  tell  of  a  man  with  a 
doctor's  shope  getting  a  title  from  the  hands  of 
his  Royal  Majesty." 

Mr.  Purdie  burst  out  laughing.  "Ca'  canny, 
wumman,  ca'  canny !  I  doot  oor  Rubbert's  no' 
the  lad  to  heed  aboot  titles.  Hoots,  toots !  .  .  . 
Come  ower  here,  Macgreegor,  an'  gi'e's  yer 
crack,"  he  said,  anxious  to  get  Aunt  Purdie  off 
her  high  horse. 

Macgregor  came  over  from  the  window  and 
leaned  against  the  old  man's  knees.  "Dae  a 
recite,  granpaw,"  he  whispered. 

"Eh?  Recite?"  The  old  man  was  pleased, 
however.  "Weel,  I'll  gi'e  ye  a  bit  readin',  if  ye 
like,  Macgreegor,"  he  said,  putting  on  his  specs 
and  taking  an  ancient  and  somewhat  battered 
Bell's  Reciter  from  a  shelf  at  his  elbow. 
"Whit  '11  I  read  ye,  ma  mannie?" 

"Read  aboot  the  man  that  wis  lockit  in  the 
kist  till  he  wis  a — a — a  skeletin,  an'  loupit  oot 
on  the  ither  man." 

"The  Uncle'?"' 


I£0  .Wee  Macgreegor 

"Ay.  I  like  that  yin  awfu',"  said  Mac* 
gregor,  with  a  shudder  of  anticipation. 

"Whit's  that?"  cried  Lizzie.  "Aw,  yer  no* 
to  read  him  that  yin,  fayther.  He  had  an  unco 
bad  nichtmare  the  last  time." 

"It  wisna  the  skeletin  done  it,  maw,"  ap- 
pealed the  boy.  "It  wis  the  peasebrose  I  had 
to  ma  supper.  I  aye  dream  when  I  get  pease- 
brose— an'  ile." 

"He's  sleepin'  wi'  me  the  nicht,"  put  in  John. 
"Ye'll  no'  be  feart  wi'  me,  wull  ye,   Mac- 
greegor ?" 
x  "Naw." 

After  some  discussion  Lizzie  reluctantly 
gave  in,  and  Mr.  Purdie  proceeded  with  the 
reading,  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  had  little 
interest  for  Macgregor  until  the  final  tragedy 
was  reached.  Then,  while  the  old  man,  short 
of  breath,  gasped  the  lines  and  gesticulated  in 
frightsome  fashion,  did  Macgregor  stand  with 
rising  hair,  open  mouth,  and  starting  eyeballs, 
guaking  with  delicious  terror.    And  hardly  had 


Wee  Macgreegor  171 

the  words  "a  sinner's  soul  was  lost"  left 
the  reader's  lips  when  the  boy  was  exclaim- 
ing: 

"Dae  anither  recite,  granpaw,  dae  anither 
recite !" 

"Na,  na,  laddie.    Nae  mair." 

"Aw,  ay.  Jist  anither.  Dae  the  yin  aboot 
the  man  that  stabbit  the  ither  man  wi'  a  jaggy 
knife,  an'  hut  him  wi'  a  stane,  an'  pit  him  in 
the  watter,  an'  wis  fun'  oot,  an'  got  the  nick. 
Dae  that  yin." 

After  a  little  rest  Grandpa  Purdie  was  pre- 
vailed upon  to  read  "Eugene  Aram's  Dream," 
at  the  close  of  which  he  suggested  that  Mac- 
gregor  should  give  a  recitation. 

"I'll  gi'e  ye  a  penny,  Macgreegor,"  he  said, 
encouragingly. 

"An'  I'll  gi'e  ye  anither,"  said  John. 

"An5  I've  a  poke  o'  mixed  ba's,"  added 
Grandma  Purdie. 

"Naw,  I  canna,"  said  Macgregor. 

*'Come  awa',  ye  can  dae  it  fine,"  said  his 


172  Wee  Macgreegor 

father.  "Dae  the  recite  yer  maw  teached  ye 
aboot  the  laddie  on  the  burnin'  boat." 

"It  wis  an  awfu'  job  gettin'  him  to  learn  it," 
remarked  Lizzie. 

"Weel,  let's  hear  a'  aboot  it,"  said  Mr. 
Purdie. 

"Och,  it's  a  daft  recite,  an'  I  canna  mind  it," 
returned  Macgregor. 

"Ah,  but  we're  a'  wantin'  to  hear  it,"  said 
Grandma  Purdie.  "Come  awa',  like  a  clever 
laddie." 

"Ye  can  mind  it  fine,"  remarked  Lizzie.  "Ye 
needna  be  sae  blate." 

"I've  a  thrupny-pit  in  ma  purse,"  said  Mr. 
Purdie. 

"Dod,  I've  yin,  tae,"  said  John. 

The  bribery  was  too  much  for  Macgregor. 
"I'll  dae't!"  he  exclaimed. 

Every  one  applauded  except  Aunt  Purdie, 
who  muttered  something  about  "bringing  up 
children  foolishly."  Whereupon  Lizzie  mur- 
mured something  about  "talkin'  o'  bringin'  up 


Wee  Macgreegor  173 

weans  when  ye  hivna  got  ony,"  an  observation 
which  the  other  pretended  she  did  not  hear. 

"I'll  no'  dae  the  yin  aboot  the  burnin'  boy," 
said  Macgregor,  suddenly. 

"Weel,  dae  anither,"  said  his  grandfather. 

"He  disna  ken  anither,"  his  mother  inter- 
posed. "It  tuk  me  six  month  to  learn  him 
the " 

"Ay,  I  ken  anither.  I  learnt  it  frae  Wullie 
Thomson,"  her  son  interrupted. 

"Whit's  it  aboot?" 

"I'll  no'  tell  till  I  recite  it." 

"Recite  it,  then." 

Macgregor  put  his  hands  behind  his  back, 
and,  after  several  false  starts  and  giggles,  de- 
livered the  following: 

"Yin,  twa,  three — 
My  mither  catched  a  flea. 
We  roastit  it,  an'  toastit  it, 
An'  had  it  to  wur  tea." 

"That's  a'  I  ken,"  he  concluded,  bursting  out 
laughing. 


174  Wee  Macgreegor 

His  grandparents  and  his  father  laughed, 
too,  and  Lizzie  would  have  joined  them  had  it 
not  been  for  Aunt  Purdie. 

With  a  face  of  disgust,  that  lady,  holding  up 
her  hands,  exclaimed,  "Sich  vulgarity !" 

Lizzie  appeared  to  swallow  something  be- 
fore she  quietly  said :  "Micht  I  be  as  bold  as  to 
speir,  Mrs.  Purdie,  if  ye  refer  to  ma  son,  Mac- 
greegor, or  to  the  words  o'  the  pome  he  recitit 
the  noo?" 

"T — to  the  words,  of  course,  Mrs.  Robin- 
son," returned  Aunt  Purdie,  hastily. 

"That's  a'  richt,  Mrs.  Purdie,"  Lizzie  said, 
with  disagreeable  pleasantness.  "I'm  gled  to 
hear  ye  referred  to  the  words.    H'm !    Ay !" 

Aunt  Purdie  opened  her  mouth,  but  fortu- 
nately the  arrival  of  her  husband  just  then  pre- 
vented her  speaking. 

Robert  Purdie  was  a  big,  genial  man,  and  he 
had  Macgregor  up  on  his  shoulder  before  he 
had  been  in  the  room  a  minute.  The  boy  loved 
his  uncle,  and  always  associated  him  with  large 


Wee  Macgreegor  175 

bags  of  what  are  known  to  some  people  as 
"hair-ile"  mixtures — softish  sweets  with  pleas- 
ant flavors,  reminiscent  of  a  barber's  saloon. 

"Ha'e  ye  been  behavin'  yersel',  Mac- 
greegor ?"  inquired  Uncle  Purdie,  presently. 

"Ay,"  replied  the  youngster,  while  his  aunt 
glowered. 

"Aweel,"  said  the  big  man,  putting  him 
gently  on  the  floor,  "awa'  an'  see  whit  ye  can 
fin'  in  ma  coat  pooch  oot  in  the  lobby." 

With  a  cry  of  rapture  Macgregor  fled  from 
the  parlor.  He  was  sampling  the  "poke"  when 
his  mother  joined  him,  having  announced  her 
intention  to  the  company  of  seeing  if  wee  Jean- 
nie  slept.  "Dearie,  ye're  no'  to  say  thon  again," 
she  said. 

"Whit,  maw?" 

"Thon  pome,  dearie." 

"Whit  wey,  maw?" 

"Jist  because  I  dinna  want  ye  to  say  V 

"Weel,  I'll  no',"  replied  Macgregor,  with  his 
mouth  full. 


176  Wee  Macgreegor 

S     "That's  ma  ain  laddie." 

"Maw,  d'  ye  ken  whit  I  wud  like  to  gi'e 
Aunt  Purdie?" 

"A  pickle  sweeties,"  suggested  Lizzie,  trying 
to  smile. 

"Naw.  I  wud  like  to  gi'e  her  a  daud  on  the 
neb  twicet"j 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"An'  a*  ye've  got  to  dae,"  said  Lizzie,  laying 
the  Fireside  Companion  in  her  lap  and  begin- 
ning another  spell  of  knitting,  "is  jist  to  licht 
the  wee  stove,  an'  the  eggs  hatches  theirsel's. 
Maist  extraornar',  is  't  no',  John?" 

"Dod,  ay,"  returned  John.  "Whit  did  ye 
say  they  ca'ed  it,  wumman?  Cremation  o' 
chickens  ?    Eh  ?" 

"Incubation,  John,"  his  wife  replied,  after  a 
glance  at  the  page.  "It's  the  heat  that  gars  the 
chickens  come  oot." 

"Whit  wey  dae  the  chickens  no'  come  oot 
when  ye  bile  the  eggs,  paw?"  inquired  Mac- 
gregor,  quitting  the  square  blocks  of  wood  with 
which  he  had  been  building  "wee  hooses"  on 
the  kitchen  floor,  and  advancing  to  his  father's 
knee. 

177 


178  Wee  Macgreegor 

"Speir  at  yer  maw,  Macgreegor,"  said  John, 
laughing.     "Ye' re  the  yin  fur  questions!" 

"Maw,  whit  wey " 

"I'm  thinkin'  it's  aboot  time  ye  wis  in  yer 
bed,  dearie,"  his  mother  observed. 

"But  whit  wey  dae  the  chickens  no' " 

"Aweel,  ye  see,  if  they  wis  comin'  oot  then 
they  wud  shin  be  droondit,"  she  said,  hastily. 
"Gi'e  yer  paw  a  kiss  noo,  an' " 

"Ay,  but  whit  wey " 

"Bilin'  watter  wud  be  ower  muckle  het  fur 
the  puir  wee  tewkies,"  she  added,  seeing  that 
the  boy  was  persistent.  "Ye've  got  to  gar  the 
wee  tewkies  think  the  auld  hen's  settin'  on 
them,  dearie." 

"If  I  wis  to  pit  an  egg  on  the  hob,  wud  a  wee 
tewky  come  oot,  maw  ?" 

"Na,  na !  That  wud  shin  roast  it.  Ye've  got 
to  keep  it  nice  an'  cosy,  but  no'  ower  warm; 
jist  like  yersel'  when  ye're  in  yer  bed.  D'  ye 
see?" 

"Ay,  maw.  .  .  .  But  I'm  no'  wearit  yet" 


Wee   Macgreegor  179 

"Let  him  bide  a  wee,  Lizzie,"  said  the  in- 
dulgent John.  "Did  ye  ever  hear  tell,"  he  went 
on  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "o'  the  hen  that 
fun'  an  aix  an'  sat  on  it  fur  a  fortnicht,  tryin' 
fur  to  hatchet?" 

"Hoots!"  murmured  his  wife,  smiling  to 
please  him. 

"Did  the  hen  no'  cut  itsel',  paw  ?"  asked  his 
son,  gravely. 

"Dod,  I  never  thocht  o'  that,  Macgreegor," 
his  father  answered,  grinning. 

"It  was  a  daft  kin'  o'  hen  onywey,"  said  the 
boy,  scornfully. 

"Aw,  it  jist  done  it  fur  a  bawr,"  said  John, 
by  way  of  apology. 

"Noo,  Macgreegor,  yer  time's  up,"  his 
mother  remarked,  with  a  shake  of  her  head. 

"I'm  no  wearit,  maw." 

"Are  ye  no'  ?  An'  whit  wey  wis  ye  yawnin* 
the  noo,  ma  mannie?" 

"I  wisna  yawnin'." 

"Whit  wis  ye  daein'  then  ?" 


180  Wee   Macgreegor 

"I — I  wis  jist  openin'  ma  mooth,  maw." 

"Och,  awa'  wi'  ye,  laddie!  Jist  openin'  yer 
mooth,  wis  ye?  Deed,  yer  e'en's  jist  like  twa 
beads  wi'  sleep.  I  seen  ye  rubbin'  them  fur  the 
last  hauf-'oor.  Ay,  fine  ye  ken  it's  Wee  Wullie 
Winkie,  my  dearie." 

"Aw,  Lizzie,  the  wean's  fine,"  put  in  John, 
as  he  cut  himself  a  fresh  fill  of  tobacco.  "Come 
here,  Macgreegor,  an'  get  a  wee  cuddle  afore 
ye  gang  to  yer  bed." 

"Na,"  said  Lizzie,  firmly.  "He'll  gang  to 
sleep  on  yer  knee,  an'  then  I'll  ha'e  a  nice  job 
gettin'  him  to  his  bed.  Here,  Macgreegor,  till 
I  tak'  aff  yer  collar.  .  .  .  Noo,  see  if  ye  can 
louse  yer  buits.  .  .  .  Mercy  me!  if  that's  no' 
anither  hole  in  yer  stockin'.  Luk  at  his  heel, 
John.  Ye're  jist  a  pair,  the  twa  o'  ye!  Ye' re 
baith  that  sair  on  yer  stockin's.  If  it's  no'  the 
heels,  it's  the  taes ;  an'  if  it  no'  the  taes,  it's  the 

soles;  an'  if  it's  no'  the  soles,  it's Aweel, 

I've  darned  them  afore,  an'  I  daursay  I'll  darn 
them  again,"  she  concluded,  with  a  philosophic 


Wee   Macgreegor  181' 

smile,  and  stooped  to  assist  Macgregor,  who 
was  struggling  with  a  complicated  knot  in  the 
lace  of  his  second  boot. 

"John,"  said  Lizzie  two  mornings  later — it 
happened  to  be  Sunday — "I  canna  get  Mac- 
greegor to  rise.    He's  sayin'  he's  no'  weel." 

"Eh!"  exclaimed  her  husband,  laying  down 
his  razor.    "No'  weel  ?    I  maun  see " 

"No'  the  noo,  John.  I  think  he's  sleepin* 
again.  But — but  wis  ye  gi'ein'  him  ony 
sweeties  when  ye  tuk  him  ootbye  yesterday 
efternune?" 

"Naw,  Lizzie.  Ye  seen  a'  he  got  yersel'. 
Jist  thon  wee  bit  taiblet.  Is  he  feelin' 
seeck  ?" 

"He  said  he  wisna  seeck,  but  jist  no'  weel. 
He's  no'  lukin'  ill-like,  but  I'm  no'  easy  in  ma 
mind  aboot  him." 

"I — I  gi'ed  him  a  penny  yesterday,"  said  her 
husband,  after  an  awkward  pause. 

"Aw,  John!" 


1 82  Wee   Macgreegor 

"But  he  said  he  wudna  spend  it  on  sweeties 
— an'  I'm  shair  he  didna." 

"Maybe  he  bocht  pastry.  Whit  fur  did  ye 
gi'e  him  the  penny?" 

"He  askit  fur  it.  Maybe  he's  jist  a  wee  thing 
wearit,  Lizzie." 

Mrs.  Robinson  shook  her  head  and  opened 
a  cupboard  door. 

"Are  ye  gaun  to  gi'e  him  ile?"  asked  John. 

"Ay,  when  he's  wauken.  Oh,  John,  John, 
ye  sud  be  mair  discreet,  an'  no'  gi'e  Macgreegor 
a'  he  asks  fur.  But  get  yer  shavin'  dune,  an* 
come  to  yer  breakfast.  Ye  didna  see  wee  Jean- 
nie's  flannen  petticoat,  did  ye  ?  Her  red  yin,  ye 
ken  ?  I  canna  lay  ma  haun'  on  it,  an'  I'm  shair 
it  was  aside  her  ither  claes  when  we  gaed  to 
wur  beds." 

"Naw,  I  didna  see  it,"  John  replied,  dully, 
and  sadly  resumed  his  shaving. 

"It's  maist  aggravatin',"  murmured  Lizzie. 
"I  doot  I'm  lossin'  ma  mem'ry.  .  .  .  Did  ma 
idoo  no'  get  on  her  braw  new  flannen  petti- 


lWee   Macgreegor  1183 

coat  ?"  she  inquired  of  her  daughter,  who,  how- 
ever, appeared  quite  happy  in  her  old  garment, 
sitting  on  a  hassock  and  piping  on  a  horn 
spoon  which  had  a  whistle  in  its  handle.  "Wee 
Jeannie's  breid  an'  mulk's  near  ready  noo,"  she 
added,  whereupon  wee  Jeannie  piped  with  more 
zest  than  ever. 

After  breakfast  Lizzie  interviewed  her  son, 
who  was  again  awake. 

"Are  ye  feelin'  better  noo,  dearie?" 

"Naw." 

"Whit's  like  the  maitter?" 

"I  dinna  ken.    I  dinna  want  to  rise,  maw." 

Lizzie  refrained  from  referring  to  the  penny 
that  had  done  the  harm.  "I  doot  ye're  needin' 
a  taste  o'  ile,"  she  said. 

Macgregor  kept  a  meek  silence. 

"I'll  gi'e  ye  a  wee  taste,  an'  then  ye'll  maybe 
try  an'  tak'  yer  breakfast." 

"I'll  try,  maw." 

He  took  the  dose  like  a  hero,  and  afterward 
made  a  meal  the  heartiness  of  which  rather 


1184  [Wee   Macgreegor 

puzzled  his  mother.  Then  he  said  he  was 
going  to  have  another  sleep. 

"John,"  said  Lizzie,  "I  canna  think  whit's 
wrang  wi'  Macgreegor.  He's  baith  hungry  an* 
sleepy.  I  wisht  I  kent  whit  he  bocht  wi'  yer 
penny.  I'm  feart  it  wis  some  kin'  o'  pooshon- 
ous  thing.  I  think  I'll  gang  ower  to  Mrs. 
Thomson  an'  speir  if  Wullie's  a'  richt.  Wullie 
an'  Macgreegor  wis  oot  thegither  last 
nicht." 

"Aye,"  said  John.  "Maybe  he  got  some- 
thin'  tae  eat  frae  Wullie." 

"Maybe,  John.  .  .  If  Macgreegor's  wauken 
when  I'm  awa',  ye  micht  get  him  to  tell  ye  whit 
he  dune  wi' the  penny.    D'  ye  see?" 

"Ay.  ...  I'm  rale  vexed  aboot  the  penny, 
wumman." 

"Weel,  dearie,  ye  maun  try  an'  be  mair  dis- 
creet. Ye  canna  expec'  a  wean  to  be  fu'  o'  wis- 
dom, as  Solyman  was." 

Left  to  himself — Lizzie  had  taken  wee  Jean- 
nie  with  her — John  went  over  to  the  bed  and) 


Wee   Macgreegor  185 

gazed  anxiously  upon  his  son.  Presently  the 
boy  opened  his  eyes. 

44  Weel,  ma  wee  man,"  said  John,  with  an  effort 
to  speak  cheerfully,  "  are  ye  fur  risin'  noo  ?" 

"Naw." 

"Are  ye  no'  ony  better  ?" 

Macgregor  languidly  signified  that  he  was 
not. 

John  cleared  his  throat.  "Whit  did  ye  dae 
wi'  the  penny  I  gi'ed  ye?"  he  asked,  gently. 

"I  spent  it." 

"Ay.  But  whit  did  ye  spend  it  on? 
Pastry?" 

"Naw." 

John  felt  somewhat  relieved.  "Aweel,  tell 
me  whit  ye  bocht." 

"I — I'll  tell  ye  anither  time,  paw,"  said  Mac- 
gregor, after  considerable  hesitation. 

"Did  ye  get  ony  sweeties  efter  yer  taiblet 
yesterday  ?" 

"Naw.  .  .  .  Can  I  get  a  wee  tate  taiblet 
noo,  paw?" 


1 86  .Wee   Macgreegor 

"Deed,  I  doot  ye  canna.    Ye're  no'  weel." 

"Ah,  but  I'm  no'  that  kin'  o'  no'  weel,  paw." 

John  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  there  ensued 
a  long  silence.  S 

"Paw,"  said  Macgregor  at  last,  "hoo  lang 
dae  wee  tewkies  tak'  to  come  oot  their  eggs?" 

"Eh?" 

The  youngster's  face  was  flushed  as  he  re- 
peated the  question. 

"I'm  no'  jist  shair,  Macgreegor,"  said  John; 
"but  I  think  the  paper  yer  maw  wis  readin'  said 
it  wis  twa-three  weeks." 

"Oh!"  cried  Macgregor  in  such  a  tone  of 
dismay  that  his  father  was  startled. 

"Whit's  wrang,  Macgreegor?" 

"I  think  I'll  rise  noo,  paw,"  the  boy  re- 
marked, soberly. 

"Are  ye  feelin'  better?" 

"Ay,  I'm  better." 

"Whit's  vexin'  ye,  ma  wee  man?"  cried 
John,  suddenly,  and  with  great  tenderness. 

Macgregor  gave  a  small  snuff  and  a  big 


.Wee   Macgreegor  187 

swallow  as  his  father's  arm  went  round  him. 
"I — I  thocht  the — the  wee  tewky  wud  come  oot 
shin,"  he  murmured,  brokenly. 

"The  wee  tewky?" 

i 

1  "Ay.  But  I — I  canna  bide  in  ma  b — b — bed 
twa-three  weeks."  And  then  from  under  the 
clothes  Macgregor  cautiously  drew  a  tiny  red 
flannel  garment,  which  he  unrolled  and  laid 
bare  a  hen's  egg.  "I  gi'ed  ma  penny  fur  it, 
paw.  The  grocer  tell't  me  there  wis  nae  tewky 
in  it,  but — but  I  thocht  there  wis,  an'  I  wis 

wantin'  to — to  keep  it  cosy,  an' — an' " 

"Aw,  wee  Macgreegor!"  exclaimed  John, 
realizing  it  all,  but  not  even  smiling. 

When  Lizzie  returned  and  heard  the  tale  she 
was  sympathetic,  but  not  sentimental. 

"I'll  jist  bile  the  egg  fur  yer  tea,  dearie," 
she  said. 

"I  wud  like  it  fried,  maw,"  said  Macgregor, 
who  was  rapidly  recovering  his  spirits. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"An*  whit  dae  ye  say  to  yer  granpaw  fur  the 
barra?"  inquired  Lizzie  of  her  son,  who  was 
gazing  with  sparkling  eyes  at  the  small  wheel- 
barrow which  Mr.  Purdie  had  just  purchased 
for  him. 

Macgregor  said  nothing,  but  he  suddenly 
flung  himself  upon  the  old  gentleman  and 
hugged  him  warmly. 

"Hech,  laddie!"  cried  Mr.  Purdie,  panting 
and  chuckling,  "ye'll  squeeze  a'  the  breith  oot 
o'  me.  But  I'm  rale  gled  ye  like  yer  barra. 
Yer  granny  wis  fur  gettin'  me  to  buy  ye  a  pic- 
tur'-book,  but " 

"I  like  the  barra  faur  better  nor  a  pictur'- 
book,"  said  Macgregor.  "Ye  canna  gi'e  folk 
hurls  in  a  pictur'-book." 

"Deed,  that's  vera  true.    Maybe  ye  wud  like 

188 


^Vee    Macgreegor.  189 

to  gang  ootbye  an'  gi'e  some  o'  yer  wee  freen's 
a  bit  ride." 

"Ay,  wud  I !"  said  Macgregor,  eagerly. 

"Aff  ye  gang,  then,"  said  John,  who  was 
looking  nearly  as  pleased  as  the  youngster. 

"Och,  John,"  Lizzie  put  in,  "Macgreegor 
maun  bide  a  wee.  It's  no'  every  Setterday 
efternune  his  granpaw  comes  up  frae  Rothesay." 

"Hoots,  toots!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Purdie,  pat- 
ting his  grandson's  head.  "The  laddie's  no' 
to  bide  in  the  hoose  fur  me.  Him  an'  me  '11 
hae  a  crack  anither  time.     Eh,  Macgreegor?" 

"I — I'll  bide  if  ye  like,  granpaw,"  Mac- 
gregor murmured,  casting  a  longing  glance  at 
his  new  treasure. 

"Na,  na,"  the  old  man  returned,  with  a  grat- 
ified smile  at  John  and  Lizzie.  "I'm  na  gaun 
awa'  fur  an  'oor  yet,  sae  ye've  time  to  try  the 
barra  an'  come  back  an'  tell  me  if  it  rins  weel." 

"Ay,  I'll  dae  that,"  said  Macgregor;  and  ob- 
viously relieved,  he  departed  without  delay. 

At  the  close-mouth  he  encountered  a  little 


igo  Wee    Macgreegor. 

girl  with  whom,  for  some  time,  he  had  been  fa- 
miliar in  rather  a  patronizing  fashion.  On 
one  occasion  he  had  chased  away  a  small  dog 
which  in  a  olayful  mood  had  caused  her  much 
alarm,  and  since  then  she  had  regarded  him  in 
the  light  of  a  hero,  and  had  somewhat  embar- 
rassed him  with  her  attentions,  for  Macgregor 
was  sorely  afraid  of  the  chaff  of  his  boy 
friends,  who,  with  the  exception  of  his  chum, 
Willie  Thomson,  were  not  slow  to  make  jeer- 
ing observations  when  they  caught  him  in  the 
company  of  his  admirer,  Therefore,  as  a  rule, 
he  passed  her  without  speaking,  or  at  most 
with  a  hurried  and  awkward  reply  to  her  shy 
but  eager  remark,  made  in  the  fond  hope  of  in- 
teresting him. 

But  with  his  new  wheelbarrow  he  was  in  a 
mightily  pleasant  humor,  and  grinned  so  kind- 
ly that  the  little  girl  was  quite  flurried  with 
pride  and  delight. 

"Ha'e  I"  she  said,  modestly,  presenting  a  tiny 
packet. 


Wee    Macgreegor.  191 

"Whit's  that?"  asked  Macgregor,  accepting 
and  opening  it.  "Chokelet!  Whaur  did  ye 
git  it?" 

"I  got  it  fur  gaun  a  message." 

"It's  awfu'  guid!  Did  ye  get  twa  bits, 
Katie?" 

"Na.  Jist  the  yin.  But — but  I'm  no'  heed- 
in'  aboot  chokelet." 

Macgregor  stopped  eating.  "Pit  that  in  yer 
gab,"  he  said,  handing  back  half  the  dainty. 
"Whit  wey  did  ye  gi'e  it  a'  to  me?" 

"Jist,"  said  Katie. 

"See  ma  new  barra!"  said  Macgregor,  at  the 
end  of  a  short  silence. 

"My !"  she  exclaimed,  admiringly. 

"It's  an  awfu'  fine  barra!" 

"Ay!" 

"I  got  it  frae  Granpaw  Purdie." 

"Did  ye?" 

"Ay,  did  I!  An'  I'm  gaun  to  gi'e  folks 
hurls  in  it." 

'My!' 


"TV  A"..  I" 


192  Wee    Macgreegor. 

Macgregor  reflected  for  a  moment;  then  re- 
marked, "If  ye  wis  a  laddie  I  wud  gi'e  ye  a 
hurl!" 

Katie's  bright  eyes  clouded  and  her  fair  head 
drooped.  From  a  pinnacle  of  pride  she  fell 
into  the  depths  of  humiliation.  She  wanted  to 
say,  "I'm  no  heedin'  aboot  hurls!"  but  her 
throat  tightened  and  her  lips  trembled,  and  she 
remained  speechless. 

"Dae  ye  no'  wish  ye  wis  a  laddie?"  inquired 
Macgregor,  bending  over  his  grand  possession 
and  making  the  wheel  revolve. 

Katie  made  no  response,  and  the  boy  rose 
and  looked  up  and  down  the  street  preparatory 
to  making  the  trial  trip.  Behind  him,  Katie 
raised  the  hem  of  her  pinafore  to  her  eyes. 

'Macgregor  stepped  out  of  the  close  and 
stood  on  the  pavement,  gripping  the  handles. 
There  were  few  people  walking  in  the  street, 
and  not  one  of  his  playmates  was  in  sight. 

Without  turning  his  head,  he  said,  abruptly, 
"Come  oot,  Katie,  an'  I'll  gi'e  ye  a  hurl." 


AVee    Macgreegor.  193 

Katie  took  a  step  forward  and  halted. 

Macgregor  repeated  the  invitation,  with  a 
glance  in  her  direction. 

Katie  cast  down  her  eyelashes  and  stood  still. 

"Are  ye  no'  wantin'  a  hurl?"  he  inquired, 
a  trifle  impatiently. 

"Ay,"  said  Katie,  hastily,  but  without  mov- 
ing. 

"Whit  wey  are  ye  greetin'  ?" 

"I'm  no'  greetin'!" 

"Ye  are  so!  Ye're  greetin'  because  ye' re  a 
lassie.    Lassies  is  aye  greetin'." 

"They  are  no'  aye  greetin' !"  she  exclaimed, 
in  a  flash  of  indignation.  But  she  was  a  gentle 
little  soul,  and  she  could  not  be  cross  with  her 
hero.  "I'll  no'  greet  again,"  she  said,  humbly. 
"An'  I  wud  like  a  hurl  in  yer  nice  barra,  if  ye 
please."  She  was  too  young  to  know,  and  he 
was  too  young  to  see  the  beauty  of  her  eyes  at 
that  moment,  but  they  looked  at  each  other, 
and  their  friendship  became  less  one-sided  than 
it  had  been  so  far. 


194  Wee    Macgreegor. 

"Sit  doon  in  the  barra,  Katie,"  said  Mao 
gregor,  graciously. 

"Ye'll  no'  coup  me?"  said  she,  with  an  in- 
quiring yet  confiding  glance. 

"Nae  fears!  I'll  no'  coup  ye!  Haud  yer 
feet  up." 

She  raised  her  feet  obediently,  and  pulled  her 
short  skirts  over  the  darns  on  her  knees. 

"I'll  hurl  ye  to  the  corner  an'  back  again," 
said  Macgregor. 

"Ay,"  assented  Katie,  who  was  holding  on 
to  the  sides  of  the  vehicle  and  looking  just  the 
least  thing  afraid. 

They  set  off  at  a  good  pace,  and  when  the 
corner  was  reached  Katie  was  smiling  fear- 
lessly and  enjoying  the  envious  stares  of  sev- 
eral little  girls  whom  she  chanced  to  know. 
The  journey  back  was  all  too  brief  in  its  dura- 
tion, and  she  arose  from  the  barrow  with  un- 
disguised reluctance.  What  a  splendid  thing 
it  was  to  be  "hurled"  by  her  hero ! 


[Wee    Macgreegok.  195 

"Ye're  an  awfu'  strong  laddie,"  she  ob- 
served, admiringly. 

"Ay,  I'm  gey  strong,"  he  returned,  trying 
not  to  pant. 

"It  wis  awfu'  nice!"  she  murmured,  with  a 
little  sigh. 

Macgregor  spat  on  his  hands.  "Wud  ye  like 
anither  hurl?"  he  asked. 

"Ay,  wud  I.    Am  I  no'  ower  heavy?" 

"Ye're  no'  heavy  ava'.  Get  into  the  barra, 
an'  I'll  hurl  ye  to  the  ither  corner.    It's  faurer." 

Away  they  went  again  on  a  journey  even 
more  delightful  than  the  first.  Children  scat- 
tered before  them,  and  grown-up  people  hur- 
riedly skipped  against  the  wall  or  into  the  gut- 
ter, their  varied  remarks  being  unheard  or  un- 
heeded. 

"Ye're  awfu'  kind!"  said  Katie,  when  they 
stood  at  the  close-mouth  once  more. 

"Och,  it's  naethin'  ava',"  returned  Mac- 
gregor, hot  and  happy. 


196  IWee    Macgreegor. 

"Ah,  but  ye  are  awfu'  kind.  Ither  laddies 
is  no'  as  kind." 

"Ay,  but  ye' re  rale  kind  yersel'.  An'  ye're 
no'  as  daft  as  ither  lassies." 

It  was  a  rare  compliment,  and  Katie  appre- 
ciated it  too  deeply  for  words.  At  the  end  of 
half  a  minute  she  said,  softly,  "I  like  ye  unco 
weel.    .    .    .    Dae  ye  like  me?" 

"Ay,"  admitted  Macgregor. 

"Dae  ye  like  me  unco  weel?" 

"Ay.    Wull  I  gi'e  ye  anither  hurl  ?" 

Katie  nodded  and  beamed  upon  him.  She 
took  her  place  in  the  barrow,  and  Macgregor 
was  just  about  to  start  off  when  a  heavy  paw 
was  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a  disagreeable 
voice  said,  "Len's  yer  barra,  an'  I'll  gi'e  the 
lassie  a  hurl." 

The  voice  was  that  of  a  great,  lumpy  boy, 
the  terror  of  the  youngsters  in  the  vicinity  of 
Macgregor's  abode,  a  coarse  creature,  who 
never  herded  with  fellows  of  his  own  size,  but 
prowled  about  teasing  and  bullying  the  little 


IWee    Macgreegor.  197 

ones,  and  even  annexing  their  playthings  when 
it  pleased  him  to  do  so. 

Little  Katie  looked  up  in  terror.  "I'm  no' 
wantin'  him  to  hurl  me,"  she  cried  to  Mac- 
gregor,  who  was  white  and  angry. 

"She's  no'  wantin'  ye  to  hurl  her,"  he  said 
to  the  bully,  who  had  already  grabbed  one  of 
the  handles. 

"I'll  gi'e  her  a  faur  quicker  hurl  nor  you," 
said  the  bully,  with  an  ugly  laugh.  "Louse  yer 
haun'!" 

"I'll  no'!" 

"I'll  shin  gar  ye  louse  it." 

"I'm  no'  wantin'  to  len'  ye  ma  barra,"  said 
Macgregor. 

Katie  rose  to  her  feet.  "Dinna  len'  him  it," 
she  said,  making  a  face  at  the  tormentor. 

"Gi'e's  nane  o'  yer  lip,*'  said  the  latter.  "Get 
in  yersel',  Macg^egar,''  he  added,  with  an  at- 
tempt at  pleasanti^css,  "an'  I'll  gi'e  ye  a  graun' 
hurl." 


198  Wee    Macgreegor.: 

"I'm  no  wantin'  a  hurl  frae  you,"  said  Mac- 
gregor, retreating  into  the  close. 

The  bully  vented  some  language  which  need 
not  be  repeated,  and  tried  to  jerk  the  barrow 
from  its  owner's  grasp.  But  Macgregor  held 
on  gamely,  and  a  desperate  struggle  occupied 
about  two  minutes,  during  which  Katie  looked 
at  her  hero  in  fear  and  trembling,  and  longed 
for  the  appearance  of  Willie  Thomson  or  an- 
other of  his  friends. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  nasty  cracking  sound, 
and  Macgregor  was  left  with  one  leg  of  his 
barrow  in  his  hands,  while  the  bully  laughed 
loudly  as  he  found  himself  in  possession  of  the 
remainder. 

"Ye've  broke  ma  barra,"  screamed  the 
youngster,  tears  of  rage  and  grief  starting  to 
his  eyes,  and  he  made  an  onslaught  with  the 
sundered  leg  upon  the  villain,  who  at  first 
grinned  scornfully,  but  soon  found  it  necessary 
to  defend  himself.  Macgregor  caught  him  a 
nice  thwack  over  the  knuckles,  causing  him  to 


[Wee    Macgreegor.  199 

drop  the  barrow;  but  a  moment  later  the  val- 
iant one  was  in  the  other's  clutches  and  being 
cruelly  cuffed. 

Katie  could  bear  no  more.  With  a  cry  of 
childish  wrath,  she  fell  upon  the  bully  from  be- 
hind, and  put  in  some  really  effective  work 
with  her  hands  and  feet.  Still,  the  battle  might 
have  been  to  the  strong  had  not  Willie  Thom- 
son appeared  upon  the  scene.  Willie  was  not 
muscular,  but  he  had  an  idea.  Signing  to 
Katie  to  keep  clear,  he  suddenly  grabbed  the 
bully's  right  leg,  and  brought  him  to  the 
ground  with  Macgregor  on  top.  The  latter 
shook  himself  free,  and  stood  up  a  sorry  pic- 
ture. 

The  bully  rose  with  a  roar,  and  made  for 
Willie  Thomson,  who  dashed  off,  and  did  not 
reach  his  own  door  a  second  too  soon.  There 
he  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  his  elder 
brother,  who  administered  to  the  bully  a 
trouncing  which  would  have  been  longer  but 


200  [Wee    Macgreegor. 

for  the  arrival  of  a  policeman,  but  which  could 
not  have  been  stronger  while  it  lasted. 

And,  left  to  themselves,  Katie  and  Mac- 
gregor  dissolved  in  tears.  She  was  the  first  to 
see  clearly,  and  lo !  Macgregor,  with  his  broken 
barrow,  his  bruised,  tear-stained  countenance, 
and  his  gusty  sobs  of  pain  and  wrath — Mac- 
gregor was  still  her  hero. 

"Dinna  greet.  .  .  .  Never  heed,"  she 
said,  over  and  over  again,  in  her  anxiety  to 
comfort  him. 

"Ma  barra's  broke,"  he  groaned. 

"Ay,  but  it's  easy  mendit.  Will  ye  no'  gang 
hame  to  yer  maw,  noo  ?" 

He  shook  his  head  and  grieved  afresh, 
though  he  hated  to  weep  in  anybody's,  espec- 
ially in  a  girl's,  presence. 

Katie  choked,  and  recovered  herself. 
"Come,"  she  said,  gently.  "I'll  help  ye  up  the 
stair  wi'  yer  barra,  an'  I'll  tell  yer  maw  how 
thon  muckle  sumph  set  on  ye,  an'  hoo  ye  lickit 
him." 


Wee    Macgreegor.  201 

"But— but  I— I  didna  lick  him." 

"Aweel,  ye  vera  near  did  it.  Ye  wisna  feart, 
onywey.    I  ken  ye  wisna  feart." 

Her  words  were  balm  to  his  sore  spirit.  But 
he  was  feeling  weak  and  shaky,  and  it  was 
a  while  ere  the  tears  ceased. 

"Wipe  yer  e'en  on  ma  pinny/'  said  Katie, 
at  last ;  and  somehow  he  bowed  and  obeyed  her. 

Then  together  they  slowly  climbed  the  stairs, 
bearing  the  damaged  barrow;  and,  waiting 
for  the  door  to  open,  Katie  spoke  softly  and 
encouragingly,  while  Macgregor  sniffed  vio- 
lently to  keep  the  tears  from  flowing  afresh. 
She  would  fain  have  kissed  her  hero,  but  some- 
thing forbade  her. 


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nected, that  it  is  with  regret  that  the  reader  lays  down  the  book 
and  contemplates  the  finis." — New  Orleans  Picayune. 

"  The  incidents  of  the  tale  are  intensely  dramatic,  and  the  pictures 
by  C.  H.  Stephens  are  among  the  most  striking  ever  given  to  any 
historical  novel." — Boston  Globe. 

Large  i2mo,  cloth  bound,  with  12  full-page  illustrations 
by  C.  H.  Stephens.    Price,  75  cents. 
Either  of  the  above  books  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price. 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

11  E.  i6th  Street  ::  ::  New  York 


